


One Day At A Time

by PettyWhiteRose



Series: PWR Marvel AU [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 136,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PettyWhiteRose/pseuds/PettyWhiteRose
Summary: With the Battle for New York over, Steve Rogers continues to learn about his new life. Loki is chained in a Midgardian cell, his magic stripped away, his mind muddled by Thanos. The one thing they have in common is the interest of a certain mutant woman who likes to interfere in both their lives. Well. She calls it helping. Sequel to "Learning The Ropes" Movieverse AU. No Slash.





	1. Shawarma

Shawarma turned out to be an Arab dish: different kinds of meat wrapped up in soft bread or served plain. Steve sat across from Banner at the long table with Eleanore, Thor, and Tony to this left, and Darren, Romanov, and Barton to his right. Jet lay on the floor with two servings of every kind of meat in the place set out in front of him. It was crowded, but the silence in which everyone ate made it seem like there were fewer people present.

Steve had chosen the beef, plain, with a side of french fries. He ate as much as he could of it, which was almost the whole thing, before a wave of exhaustion hit him. He set his plate aside and rested his head on his hand.

Eleanore was already at that point almost as soon as she sat down, her head drooping every possible direction. Once she hit Thor's shoulder, and he grinned at her in understanding before wolfing down the food she pushed in front of him.

Darren was done eating in about five minutes, and Steve offered him the untouched food left on his plate. Darren gratefully accepted this, and it was gone in less time than the first batch.

Tony leaned back in his chair, seemingly lost in thought, only eating the occasional bite.

Bruce ate almost as quickly as Darren, his hunger clearly fueled by the Hulk. Tony had gotten him a new shirt and pants from the tower before they had made their way down to turn Loki over to SHIELD.

Natasha and Clint stared into space in opposite directions. Clint looked nearly as tired as Eleanore, which was understandable as he was the only true human in the group. Natasha ate her wrap in slow bites, stopping once in a while to watch the man behind the counter or the woman sweeping broken glass from the shop floor.

Eleanore rested her face in her hands as a final solution to keep from bumping her head into the people next to her. Steve heard her breathing even out in a moment, and he watched to make sure she didn't fall out of her chair. He felt like he could fall asleep too, but they had to report to SHIELD right after this to get some answers and give some about how the battle went down from all sides. He kept himself awake by rehearsing how he was going to ask about the nuke.

Thor, Darren, and Banner finished their food at around the same time, and Barton, Natasha, and Tony wiped their hands and nodded.

Darren nudged Steve and motioned to Eleanore. "Would you tap her on the shoulder? She wakes up jumpy sometimes."

Steve nodded and did as he was asked. Eleanore raised her head with a snort, looking around and rubbing her eyes.

"Was I out very long?" she asked Steve as she stood.

"Just a few minutes," he confirmed, pushing his chair in.

A quinjet was waiting for them right outside the restaurant, and the boarded without a word. Steve sat between Banner and Eleanore, Darren on her right, with Barton, Tony, and Romanov across the aisle. No one bothered to buckle up.

The ride to the helicarrier was short, the landing gentle. They departed into the same hangar they'd left from, and Steve noticed a couple of Harrier jets missing as well. They entered the elevator with a young agent as a guide, and they were taken to a room on the cell block floor. The door slid open silently to reveal a small conference room with a screen-covered table.

"Welcome back," Fury greeted them. Steve felt his fatigue disappear in the face of the man who'd shot a nuke at them.

Before he could say anything, Darren stepped around him.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, almost yelling. "You sent us in there to save people, then just decided to give everyone up? To a _nuke_?The rest of the East Coast would have been irradiated, and you could have started a war!"

"In case you missed the notice, I'm the one who told you two about the bomb," Fury stated calmly, his good eye narrowing. "I didn't send it."

"Oh," Darren took a step back, and Eleanore stood beside him and rested her hand on his arm.

"Then we'd like to speak to whoever did, please," she said calmly, a friendly smile on her face.

Steve glanced around and saw the rest of the Avengers were frozen in shock at this reversal of roles.

"Then be seated," Fury invited them, gesturing to the table. "And we can begin."

The team filed slowly to their seats at the oblong table, and sat without a sound. The order, clockwise, was Steve, Eleanore, Darren, Tony, Banner, Romanov, and Barton. Jet sat beside the door, watching everything with cloudy blue eyes.

"To start," Fury began, seating himself on the edge of the table, "You should know that SHIELD did not authorize that nuclear strike. It was the World Security Council."

"See, this is why I don't like to get angry," Darren muttered.

"They overrode my orders," Fury continued. "They believed that stopping the invasion in Manhattan was worth whatever else we lost. I disagreed, but they sent a lone, armed jet without my knowledge. I told you as soon as I knew."

"Are we going to talk to the Council?" Eleanore asked.

"Not today. I wanted to give you guys a break from their questions. And besides," Fury grinned just slightly, "They don't know your identity."

"Let's keep it that way," Eleanore sat back in her chair with a sigh.

"Now, let's turn on the cameras to record this meeting for posterity," Fury signaled, and cameras descended from the ceiling of every corner of the room, red lights blinking. "Each of you give your account of the battle, and anything else you'd like to say."

Everyone looked to Steve, so he went first. "The Chitauri relied on numbers to overwhelm our forces. They were easy to take down one-on-one, but they moved in packs. They attacked the buildings so that people would run onto the streets."

"They used the hovercrafts to herd people into corners more easily too," Clint pointed out. "Tony and Darren, and that dragon thing, kept having to break up soon-to-be mass graves."

It continued like that, with everyone giving input about how he battle had appeared from their perspective. Romanov talked about how the Chitauri seemed to be used to being stronger and bigger than their opponents. Eleanore said their weapons blasts were deflected and absorbed by water. Tony talked about how they were terrible at aiming their hovercraft weapons, and Clint backed him up. Banner said they seemed not to talk to each other. Darren said when he'd follow a group and pick them off one by one, none of Chitauri would try different tactics. They flew the same way every time, no matter how many of their group died around them. Thor said the monstrous flying live ships were injured by lightning, but it did not kill them unless it was conducted into their bodies by metal.

Steve asked how many casualties were counted in Manhattan, and Fury shook his head. "Too soon to know."

When they had spoken for around ninety minutes, they slowly ran out of things to say. Silence fell over the room, broken only by a last-minute comment or a yawn.

"Well, I'd say we can wrap this up," Fury stood, and the Avengers followed suit. "On behalf of the human race, thank you for your actions today." He came around and shook each of their hands one by one. "Go get some rest," he suggested when that was done. "We can discuss more tomorrow."

They left the room in a group, and headed in the same direction to the dormitory hallway. Night was quickly approaching as the ship sailed over the ocean, the coastline barely in sight.

Barton's door was on Steve's other side, and Romanov was beside him. They each gave a halfhearted wave as they retired immediately.

"Night, love you," Eleanore said, kissing Darren on the cheek and hugging him close. She turned and gave Steve a smile. "Night Steve."

"Goodnight," Steve replied, noting Tony lingering at his own door a little ways down. The couple turned and he hugged them both in what Steve thought was an uncharacteristic display of affection.

Steve didn't bother reading into it, instead entering his own room and placing his shield on the ground right next to the head of his bed. Loki was on board, which meant anything could still happen.

Steve stripped off his uniform and carefully laid it over the desk chair, opening his bag and retrieving sweatpants and a t-shirt. He knew from television that it was now common to sleep in one's shorts or underwear alone, but he'd never felt comfortable with that, especially not on a ship surrounded on all sides by his teammates. He reached into his bag again, noticing an unexpected sensation, and realized that Eleanore had thrown his dressing gown inside it when she'd retrieved the bag from his room. That seemed like an eternity ago, but Steve was at once grateful for her meddling. It meant he could shower without having to dirty his clothes. He laid the clean things out on the bed, ready for him when he returned.

He put on the dressing gown over his underwear and slipped his shoes on over sockless feet. He thought he remembered seeing a men's bathroom at the end of the hall, and hearing running water coming from there the day before. He made sure he had his access card, and padded quietly on the shiny floor, wondering where a towel was when he needed one.

The bathroom was where he'd expected it to be, and clearly labeled _Men_. Across the hall was the women's and Steve could hear shower water coming from it as well. He entered the men's room and found a row of toilet stalls in the front, with a walled-off section of five showers in the back. There was a rack of large and small black towels, and Steve assumed the color was to avoid blood stains. There was even a soap and shampoo dispenser on each shower wall. None of the showers were in use, and Steve was reasonably sure the entire bathroom was deserted. He turned on the water of the last shower, disrobed, and stepped into the hot stream.

The shampoo had almost no scent, only smelling faintly of clean laundry, and the soap was the same. Steve had grown used to strong-smelling men's soap over the past couple of weeks, so it was a change. He kept smelling himself to make sure he washed every bit of sweat and dirt off.

About halfway through his shower, Tony came in. Steve could tell it was him because loud, obnoxious music was playing from some type of portable speakers.

"Cap, that you?" he asked, turning on the water in the shower next to Steve.

"Yeah," Steve answered. He didn't want to encourage conversation in the shower. He lathered up a second time and just as quickly rinsed off, finishing with his hair. The shut the water off and reached around the corner for his towel, drying himself quickly with the rough material.

"Dad, is that you?" Darren's voice came with a rush of cold air as he opened the door.

"Yeah, Cap's here too." Tony said over his running water. "Post-battle shower party."

"I… might use my own shower," Darren sounded disturbed.

"You can shower with me," Clint came in, and Steve rolled his eyes, reaching for his robe.

"No thanks."

"Hey Steve, didn't know you were a boxer-briefs man." Clint winked at him as he opened the shower curtain.

"Um, yep." Steve had never liked talking to people in the showers. In the Army, before the serum, he'd risen early to get in and out before the bigger men. They often wanted to wrestle, and it both hurt Steve and made him uncomfortable. He still wasn't over the feeling, because it seemed to only have happened a little over a year ago.

He made sure his robe was tied tightly, picked up his dirty underwear, and threw his towel in the hamper provided next to the towel rack. Then he slipped his shoes back on and quickly left the bathroom.

Eleanore's laugh floated out of the women's bathroom, and Steve heard Natasha say something in return as he entered the hall. Their words were lost in the water and noise coming from the men's room, but Steve could tell they were happy. He was glad. Romanov did not show affection to anyone in a group, except perhaps for Barton. If Eleanore was friends with her too, that meant the team was that much stronger.

Steve padded down the hall and took his room card out of his pocket, opening the door and entering into the darkness and blessed quiet. Most of the time he chose to surround himself with distractions to keep the memories away, but tonight he welcomed whatever the stillness would bring. He changed into the clothes laid out on his bed and slipped under the covers, feeling warm and clean for the first time in over a day.

Steve focused on relaxing his muscles and falling asleep. Some nights it wasn't difficult, and some nights it was. With the battle still rattling around in his head, Steve guessed that this was going to be a difficult night.

He sighed and rolled over onto his back, thinking through every attack, every advance, every move he'd used and how they could be better. He thought about what he'd seen of his teammates, and how he could work them into future plans. Tony needed to be monitored to not sacrifice himself again. Darren could be useful as a sniper and spotter, but his real value was in his flying capabilities and artillery. The team was well balanced, Steve thought, with three to four people in the air, and the same number on the ground. They were all flexible, all willing to help each other out.

Banner would want to avoid battle as much as possible, but he could be useful if he stayed ready to jump in and monitored everyone, maybe helping Eleanore if someone was injured and needed to be moved off the field. Jet should avoid tight spaces because of his tail and wings. Steve wondered if he was effective as a dog, or another animal in a close-quarters fight. Eleanore should learn to use her water in the air more, because that would be a potent weapon, one people wouldn't expect. Steve pictured the opposing elements, water and fire, working together with satisfaction.

He was feeling more restful, and he closed his eyes to speed the process up. Images of his own mistakes flashed behind his eyelids. Not watching his surroundings and getting tackled, being too slow to help Romanov out, watching Loki from the ground, unable to do anything as he flew by overhead. They weren't deadly, but they bothered him. He planned how to avoid them in the future, and that comforted him.

In the middle of his thoughts, he unknowingly drifted into sleep.

 


	2. Prison on Earth

Loki stared at the wall of the small room, listening to the goings-on around him. Small lights dotted the white ceiling, illuminating the table in front of Loki and the bareness of the small space around him. The gleaming of his shackles, the complete lack of magic. The walls were gray, thin by Asgardian standards, and made of flimsy materials that easily transferred sound; the Midgardians had no magic to prevent it. Of course, they did not know he could hear them either.

“I don’t care that he came after it,” a strident voice belonging to the leader of the clandestine organization SHIELD rang out in a room two doors away.  “The Tesseract was on Earth, and it provides us with vital intelligence about unknown energy sources.”

“And weaponry as well,” this voice from the pale-eyed man out of time.  “Hydra used it to make weapons of mass destruction, and SHIELD was doing the same. I say we send it back.”

“Aye,” this voice grated on Loki’s ears and nerves, far too familiar and close.  “The Captain is correct. Midgard is not ready for such knowledge as the Tesseract provides. She is a gem of unimaginable power, and—”

“And you just get to keep all the power up in your little slice of Heaven, is that it?”  This from Stark, one of the only true mortals among the merry band. 

“That is not what I mean to say, Man of Iron. It is simply that mortals are too weak as yet to wield such power unchanged.”  Loki almost smiled. Thor was still no better at negotiating, no matter how he professed to have learned from the humans.

“I think that’s a decision for Earth to make. Not you.” The commander was speaking again, with nearly the same authoritative tone as Odin. 

Loki sighed imperceptibly, knowing that his every move was recorded by Midgard’s primitive magic. He had been bound by Thor, who’d brought out the special gag and manacles that would strip even Loki’s power. While this would normally have been no more than an inconvenience, in this case it prevented Loki’s magic from healing him quickly, as it was bound even at the most basic levels. Every time Loki breathed, he experienced sharp pain throughout his body, from his head to his toes. The green monster had certainly done a thorough job of smashing him.  From one monster to another.

Loki took a moment to assess his injuries once more, grounding his mind in the pain. His collarbone was broken and displaced, which led to grating every time he drew breath. His back was full of needles, and Loki suspected many cracks and fissures ran through the bones there. His hip felt similar. His left leg was the worst, where the Hulk had gripped him, because he’d walked on it all the way to his cell refusing to show any weakness. His head was throbbing and clouded, and Loki fought through the muddle of his thoughts to focus on eavesdropping once again.

“It makes no matter,”  Thor was saying.  “The All-Father cannot bring us back to Asgard the same way he sent me to Earth. We need the Tesseract to take Loki home to face his punishment.”

“Why are we only hearing this  now?! ” The director of SHIELD’s voice rose in volume and anger.  “So let me get this straight. Your brother just brought an army to New York and busted shit up, killing who-knows-how-many people, and now you want to take that motherf—” he was cut off in his tirade by a knock at the door.  “What?!”

Instead of a reply, Loki could barely hear the door opening, and he assumed someone entered. Not everyone walked as loudly as Thor.

“ Um, guys,” a feminine voice spoke quietly and calmly. It was not the red-haired Widow woman. Loki had never heard this voice, but the brunette woman with the water magic had never spoken during their trip through the tower to hand him over to these pitiful agents. Loki assumed it was her.

“What is it, L?” the Captain of the country spoke in a friendly tone.  What kind of a name is that? Loki wondered.

“You know he can hear you, right?”  the voice obviously belonged the killer of fun and dreams.  “He’s listening to every word you’re saying.”

The room went deathly quiet. Loki imagined them all looking toward the wall, that bordered the room between himself and them.

“That’s impossible,” Stark began, just as the Captain said,  “How do you know?”

“He’s… amused. And his emotions are following your conversation pretty well, considering.”

“Considering what, Miss Engman?” The director’s voice was quieter and more focused.

“Considering he’s fighting off the remaining effects of mind control.”  Loki’s breathing hitched, and it had more to do with shock than pain. “He feels worse than Hawkeye did when he woke up after Widow cognitively recalibrated him.”

The room was silent again, and this time for a much longer period. Loki realized that this water witch must have the power to read minds as well, and that she’d been processing his thoughts the entire time he’d been in the room, if not longer. He felt violated beyond even when he knew he was watched by Heimdall.

Finally, the director spoke again.  “Good intel, Agent. We’ll talk about the rest of your statement later. For now, keep it to yourself. Okay people, let’s move this conversation to a more private venue.” And Loki heard the faint sound of the door reopening and some of their footsteps echoing down the hall.

Loki was left alone with his not-so-private thoughts.  Is she still listening? How much can she hear? He tried to keep his mind from reeling back to his anger and pain, but it naturally went to its habitual memory of late, no matter how many times he redirected it.

The space rock was barren, devoid of any type of life. Loki was dragged across its craggy gray surface by two Chitauri guards until he was unceremoniously dumped at the foot of a floating golden throne. He rose to his knees, but could get no further, his body too weak and his magic focused on healing his most intense injuries first.

“ So, Son of Odin,”  the great, deep voice of the Destroyer of Worlds rumbled around him. “Have you finally given proper thought to my generous bargain?”

Loki’s throat worked as he attempted to swallow the blood pooling in his mouth. It took some effort and time, but eventually he cleared his throat to speak.

“Great King of Death,”  he replied, his words coming out coarse and gravelly from screams of pain past.  “My wish is but to serve you.”  He had held out for a very long time, but thousands of treatments with the scepter, even in unskilled hands, had left him weak, and the constant torture had driven him to wish above all to escape the pain. Even in his weakened state, though, his mind was constantly scheming and planning for escape, 

“Good,”  Thanos descended from his throne to stand before Loki’s kneeling form. “I have great plans for you, Son of Odin, for you were born to be a king. You will take Midgard for your own use, and you will send the Tesseract back to me. Together we shall reclaim the mighty power of the Space Gem from the mortals who are unworthy to seek its enlightenment. We will reset the universe in its proper order. ”

Loki only stared at him as he spoke. You fool,  he thought, I will run the moment I am free. You will not get your Space Gem, and you will not find me, not for the rest of my days. You plan is bound to ruin and you are a madman, spurred by your insanity…  Loki’s thoughts trailed off as the scepter was brought into view and presented to Thanos by an underling.

Thanos spoke dark words of persuasion and power over the scepter that sent shivers along Loki’s skin. When he was done, Thanos looked at him and smiled.  “Son of Odin, I can see your heart through your defiant eyes. You think yourself above me, and you wish to run away.” He turned the scepter to Loki’s chest.  “I hereby grant you this weapon, that you may be victorious over those pitiful mortals of Midgard. I grant you my Chitauri army, that you may lay waste the that world and rebuild it in your own image. And lastly,” the point of the scepter pierced the thin fabric of Loki’s torn tunic, directly above his heart, “I grant you my will, that all this may be accomplished according to my wishes. For I am Thanos, Seeker of Death, and I will not be thwarted by the likes of you.”  The last thing Loki clearly remembered was a blue flash before his world faded to chaos and desire for destruction.

 


	3. Planning

They followed Fury down the hall and into the same conference room from the night before. Darren found them in the hallway on the way there, and he fell in line with a greeting for Eleanore, Steve, and his father. The crowded into the room, standing this time. Fury was at the head of the table, and the rest of them were gathered to one side, forming a tight oval. Thor stood closest to Fury, with Steve behind him. Tony leaned an arm against one of the chairs next to the table, Romanov and Barton beside him, and Eleanore and Darren stood closest to the door. Bruce was reportedly still asleep, exhausted from his extended Hulk phase the day before.

“I assume this is far enough?” the director asked Eleanore, and she nodded. “Then I’d like to get back to our earlier discussion.”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Thor insisted. “The Tesseract must take us to Asgard and remain there.”

“Thor, don’t you think you’re being a little stubborn?” Eleanore inquired, her voice accusing, antagonistic. The Asgardian looked at her in surprise and dawning anger.

“I think I am being correct,” he growled. The energy in the room started crackling as Thor moved his hand to grip the hammer at his belt.

“It’s not about being right or wrong,” Darren spoke in a low voice, and Thor stilled to hear him. “It’s about reaching a good compromise.”

“What compromise is possible?” Thor demanded. “The Tesseract must return with us. You want Loki to face punishment for his crimes, do you not?”

“My opinion on that is not important right now. The fact is we’re your allies, and you need to work with us,” Eleanore was demanding. Unreasonable. Steve was starting to worry she would start a battle right in the room.

“Earth is under Asgard’s protection. Is that not enough for you?” Thor looked like he was about to really fight one or both of them. Steve looked at Fury, who was watching the exchange with keen interest.

“It’s not that we don’t appreciate it,” Darren chided, elbowing Eleanore gently. “It’s just that Earth should have a say in what happens in the realms too. Don’t you think?” It dawned on Steve that this was “Good Cop, Bad Cop” pulled off without a hitch. He settled back to let the couple handle the situation, whatever it was, and saw Tony doing the same. The billionaire had a smug smirk hiding around the corners of his mouth.  What are they planning?

“Of course you have a say, at least in what happens here.” Thor looked between his opponents, challenging them to argue.

Eleanore accepted. “Why are you taking the Tesseract then? And Loki? You come in here and have a family fight and leave us to clean up your mess.”

“That is not my goal,” Thor protested. “Nor my father’s.”

“We just want to have a say,” Darren explained to him. “We want to be represented.”

There was a silence and Thor looked down, absorbing their words. Steve suddenly understood what they were angling for, at least in part.

“Come to Asgard,” Thor invited. “Represent yourselves there.”

“When?” Eleanore demanded. “In a hundred years when you think about us again?”

“Of course not,” Thor shook his head. “Come back with us tomorrow. It would be no trouble to send you home using the Tesseract.”

“I’m not human,” Darren held up his hands. “Humans should represent humans.”

“I’ll go,” Eleanore volunteered. “I’ll represent mutants.”

Steve looked around, amazed at the change ten minutes had worked on their situation. This was better than keeping the Tesseract, it opened the way for intergalactic relations.

“Hold on,” Fury stepped in. “One, this was not approved by SHIELD.”

“We’ll ask forgiveness later.” Eleanore shrugged, and received a glare from one eye.

“Two,” Fury continued, sounding more annoyed. “You’re not just waltzing off to Asgard alone.”

Another silence took hold of the room as they all looked at each other. 

“You don’t want me,” Tony commented. “Even I know that would be a bad idea.”

“I don’t want to go,” Clint added. “I’ve had enough adventure for a while. What about you, Nat?”

Romanov just shrugged noncommittally. 

“I’ll go,” Steve volunteered, stepping back into the circle. He didn’t like the thought of Eleanore going alone either, but more importantly he didn’t want Fury to veto the ambassador plan. Talking a way to peace was something he’d never gotten to try before, not on a grand scale. He looked forward to the challenge.

“You two…” Fury sighed, and Steve wondered whether he meant Eleanore and Darren or Eleanore and Steve. “I can’t keep you from going. You don’t officially work for SHIELD.” Something in his attitude made Steve think he secretly approved of the way things had turned out.

“Thanks, Director.” Eleanore said, her tone less comabtive now that the plan was settled.

“But,” Fury cautioned. “Don’t you dare start something I’ll have to deal with back here.”

“We won’t let you down,” Steve promised.

“Go pack up then,” Fury dismissed them. “Get some more rest. Meet back here tomorrow at O’ six hundred.”

They filed out of the room and into the hallway. It was late afternoon, verging on evening. Fury had given them the day to recover, and Steve wasn’t tired.

“My friends,” Thor exclaimed, apparently happy again after the argument. “Tomorrow we feast in Asgard!”

“And tonight they’re serving curry in the cafeteria!” Clint added, coming up beside them. Tony branched off into an elevator, saying he was headed to the lab.

“Where’s Jet?” Darren asked Eleanore as they walked along. 

“Eating again on deck. Battle really took it out of him. Besides, he likes being a dragon as much as possible.”

“Is he going tomorrow?” Natasha asked, walking up beside her.

“No,” Eleanore shook her head. “Asgardians hunt dragons sometimes. He doesn’t want to go. Want to teach me some stuff before supper?”

“Sure,” Romanov responded, and they turned together, running up the stairs.

“Where are they going?” Steve asked Darren.

“Probably to the gym. Natasha was going to teach Elle some moves.”

“Let us join them,” Thor suggested. “Ladies do not train for battle on Asgard. This is most intriguing.”

“Women don’t fight?” Darren asked. “Don’t tell Elle.” The group started up the stairs after their teammates.

“Don’t tell Nat either,” Clint added. “Seriously, no women fight? Wasn’t there one on your team in New Mexico?”

“There is one,” Thor amended. “Lady Sif. She fought hard for her title.”

They reached the gym and saw no sign of Eleanore or Natasha.

“Sparring ring,” Darren suggested, leading them through another door and into a small room with a roped off platform. Sure enough, Natasha was strapping bracers on Eleanore’s hands and giving her instructions on how to punch. They looked up when the men came in.

“What?” Eleanore asked them, and Darren shrugged.

“We wish to see our friends do battle,” Thor supplied, grinning in anticipation. Eleanore and Natasha gave each other a look.

“It’s true,” Clint assured them. “Nothing weird.” 

Steve suddenly thought of the way their interest could be construed, and he felt his face heat up.

“Whatever,” Eleanore stood, flexing her hands. She had removed her jacket and was wearing a sleeveless black shirt with matching tights. Her hair was tied back, and her shoes and socks were discarded near the bench, along with Romanov’s. 

The master assassin wore a red shirt similar to Eleanore’s, and loose blue pants. She held her hand out and Elle reached into her jacket, handing her hair pins. She pinned her curls to the top of her head, then nodded and entered the ring.

Eleanore followed her, and they squared off in different fighting positions. Eleanore was taller by a few inches, and her reach was therefore longer. Romanov had the advantage of speed. Steve remembered her whirling through the air during battle, taking out alien after alien before they saw her coming.

The two women stood still for a silent moment, then Natasha struck out, catching Eleanore in a glancing blow to her cheek. Eleanore whipped her head to the side and grabbed the extended arm, twisting it and shoving the smaller woman away.

“Good,” Romanov commented, standing straight. “Next time, don’t let me hit you.”

“Yeah, like I planned it in the first place.” Eleanore’s sarcasm brought a slight grin to the spy’s expression.

“Here, raise your hands like this,” she repositioned Eleanore’s arms so one shoulder was blocking her cheek while the other was placed nearer her ear.

“You’re shorter, you’re going to go for my legs or abdomen,” Eleanore protested. “How do I block that?”

“Men typically don’t hit below the neck,” Romanov explained. “But if someone tries, block with your knee and punch them in the head. 

“Like this?” Eleanore mimed a motion, bringing her left knee up and uppercutting with both hands.

“Sure, or this,” Romanov demonstrated another move. Steve locked both of the techniques away in his mind to try later.

“This is tiresome,” Thor complained, standing and stretching. He looked at the men lining the wall, “Will one of you spar with me?”

“They’re focusing,” Darren pointed out. The two women had stopped and were giving Thor an annoyed look.

“I’ll fight you,” Natasha offered.

“Where is the honor in defeating a mortal woman?” Thor chuckled. 

Steve felt his stomach clench at the chill that descended on the room. Eleanore had a look of surprise on her face that quickly morphed into disbelieving anger. Natasha chose a bland expression, maintaining eye contact with the Asgardian challenger.

“How about both of us?” she asked innocently. “Would that be more even?”

“Hardly,” Thor shrugged his shoulders. “But if you insist, I will go easy on you.”

Natasha and Eleanore nodded to each other and took connecting corners of the mat. Thor removed his SHIELD issue jacket to reveal a black t-shirt over blue jeans. He removed his shoes and socks, placed his hammer on the floor, and slipped a string from his pocket to tie his hair back.

“You must warn me if I hurt you,” he said, climbing under the ropes. “I do not wish you harm.”

“Okay,” Eleanore said. “Same for you.”

Thor chuckled and assumed a wrestling stance. And froze in place. An expression of grim horror dawned on the demigod’s face as Steve saw his muscles flex slightly with no resulting motion. He strained harder, but Eleanore only held out her hands and stilled every advance he tried to make.

“How long can you hold him like that?” Natasha asked her, relaxing her pose and looking at her sparring partner.

“Probably all day,” Eleanore answered, eyes focused on her victim. “But it’s boring.”

“Do you want to do the honors?”

“Why should I have all the fun?”

Natasha smiled, a genuine, pleased grin, and walked right up to Thor and around behind him. She motioned to his foot. “Will I be able to move this?”

“Be my guest.”

With one swift motion, Romanov swept Thor’s leg out from underneath him. He toppled like a tree.

Steve hid a smile and approached the ring, Darren and Clint behind him.

“Cheats!” Thor yelled angrily, getting up off the mat. “Who battles with such dishonor!”

“Easy,” Eleanore cautioned him dryly. “We didn’t cheat.”

“Magic is a trick. No honorable warrior would fight that way.” Thor was raging, his breath coming in quick bursts.

“Maybe not where you come from, but on Earth we use what we’ve got,” Eleanore explained. Romanov nodded, moving to stand beside her.

“Asgardians train like men, without cheap ruses.” Thor was scornful.

“Maybe that’s why you lost,” Eleanore smiled cheekily, and Steve got ready to leap between her and the demigod.

Thor stilled for a moment, then let out a laugh. “Perhaps so, Lady Eleanore. You may have a point.” He chuckled some more, walked up to the women, and bowed. “I concede. The warriors of Earth are truly forces to be reckoned with.”

“Want to try it, no powers?” Eleanore offered as a treaty of peace. “You’ll win, probably, that way.”

“Nay, but may I train with you?” Thor asked. “This defensive tactic is not one we use at home.”

Eleanore looked to Natasha, who nodded. “Of course.”

“Most excellent!”

“Want to get some targets in?” Clint asked Darren as the three combatants started throwing punches again.

“Sure. Steve?” Darren looked at him questioningly, and Steve nodded.

“Got any pistols, or is it all long range?”

“There’s everything,” Clint assured him, a reverent tone creeping into his voice. “I helped design it.”

The range was impressive, with still and moving targets for every distance possible. Darren took a rifle off the locked shelf, and Steve chose his usual gun. Clint picked up three different kinds of bows and went to town on a range with targets that jumped up randomly at different points.

They spent the next hour shooting with silencers, having various contests to see who was the most accurate on different challenges. Clint won every time, never switching from his weapon of choice, but Steve and Darren kept it interesting by vying for second place. The younger man was better at long distance shots, and Steve was used to close motion shooting.

At nine o’clock Thor entered, loudly requesting their presence at supper. They put away their weapons and followed him to the cafeteria where Eleanore and Natasha were already collecting their food from the buffet. 

After a meal filled with laughter, Eleanore and Darren left to go to bed. The rest of the team disbanded, and Steve walked with the couple back to the dormitory hall, where they both turned and entered Eleanore’s room. He cataloged that in his mind as  None Of My Business.

He entered his own room and dressed in his sleeping clothes, sinking gratefully into the mattress and thinking about the next day. Thor had invited them, yes, but his parents might have no idea they were going to show up. Steve made a mental note to ask Thor about that in the morning. Besides being unexpected guests, Steve knew that he and Eleanore would be entering into a culture completely different from their own. If Thor’s statements about honor were any indication, this was a warrior society, and possibly one not interested in negotiations and alliances with a world full of ‘mortals’. 

Steve thought over possible scenarios, from their visit being met with hostility from the very beginning, to being invited to a feast and placed in seats of honor. He wondered if everyone in Asgard was as loud as Thor, and winced at the idea of a room full of such people shouting over each other.

A knock sounded on his door, startling him from his musings. He rose quickly and pressed the button that opened the door and found Eleanore standing on the other side.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure,” Steve mimicked her tone and stepped back, allowing her to dart around him into the dark room.

“Could you close the door?”

“Yeah,” Steve complied, confused. The light from the hallway was gone, leaving them in near-darkness.

“You can turn on the light if you want,” Eleanore spoke at a normal volume again. He did, and found her standing near his chair, where his torn and bloody uniform still lay.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, moving the clothing aside and pulling out the chair so she could sit down.

“Yes and no,” she seated herself, pulling the chair close to the bed. Steve took the hint and sat on the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to talk some things over with you.”

“About our trip tomorrow?” he grinned, and she smiled back.

“You nervous?” Steve asked, noticing how she kept fidgeting. 

“Agitated,” she corrected him. 

“Me too,” he felt the tightness in his chest, and tried unsuccessfully to sigh it away. “What makes you… agitated about it?”

“The transportation,” Eleanore admitted. “When they beam us up, we could be blasted to particles of nothing.”

“Hadn’t thought about that one,” Steve pictured his life ending in a blue flash, killed by the cube he’d risked his life twice to get back.

“And then there’s the parents,” Eleanore continued. “Odin doesn’t sound like a nice or understanding guy. Thor talks about him a lot with love, but he just sounds like a stubborn old man.”

“Try not to let those feelings show when we meet them,” Steve grinned at her judgment. “If we get there alive, that is.”

“Right. Because I’m so good at acting. What are you going to wear tomorrow?”

The change threw Steve for a second, and he thought about it quietly. His suit was not in good shape, and he only had casual clothing. “Everyday clothes, I guess.”

“That’s all I have here too,” Eleanore shrugged. “Oh well. Thor said that the women there all wear dresses, so they’ll probably be so surprised to see one in pants that they won’t even look at you.”

“There’s a female warrior on Thor’s team,” Steve commented, remembering he earlier discussion and the images from he debriefing packet. “I think she wears pants.”

“I guess that plan’s a bust, then.”

“Borrow something from Natasha,” Steve suggested.

“Nothing she has would fit me,” Eleanore shrugged. “Too tall, and we’re not the same size.”

“Normal clothes should be fine, anyway,” he didn’t care much about appearance, then wondered if he should find an army uniform to wear. He discarded the idea after considering the time constraints. He did want to sleep some tonight.

As though echoing his thoughts, Eleanore yawned and sighed, stretching and leaning back in the chair. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“Probably not,” Steve grinned at the eye-rolling he received.

“But I should still let you sleep,” Eleanore cracked her knuckles and sighed.

“I’d probably stay awake for a while anyway,” Steve admitted.

“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” Eleanore asked in a nonchalant manner, but Steve read concern hiding beneath her acting.

“Not too much, just thinking about tomorrow will keep me up.” He didn’t want pity, and no medicine would help anyway. No use in worrying her for something that was unavoidable.

“I have the same problem, sometimes,” Eleanore nodded. “It’s mild anxiety. It runs in my family. My mom has it too, and so did my grandma.”

“I didn’t know that,” Steve was surprised at the admission. “Is it bad?”

“I just worry a lot, especially when I get tired.”

“What do you worry about?”

“You want the full list, or just some examples?” she smiled ruefully.

“Whichever,” Steve didn’t want to pry, but he was genuinely curious.

“My grades, money, Jet, you, Darren, my future, my past, the future of the mutant race, what will happen if I go public with my powers, my mom, my career…” she trailed off, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Your turn.”

“For what?”

“Telling me your worries,” Eleanore raised an eyebrow at him. “And don’t brush them off. I won’t tell anyone you’re crazy for insomnia.”

“I…” Steve was trying to decide what to tell her. “I remember the war. Killing people.” The was usually enough of an explanation to turn most people away. He could see the aversion in their faces— they didn’t want a super soldier melting down in front of them. Eleanore and Darren were the only people so far who had really wanted to hear his memories. He usually told them the good ones.

“What else?”

“This time. Sometimes I dream I’m back in the forties, and it’s hard to go back to sleep when I wake up.”

“Are they nightmares?”

“Not most of the time. They’re good dreams, most of them.”

“It must be hard to wake up,” Eleanore nodded sympathetically. They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought.

“Sometimes I dream I died,” Steve admitted, suddenly wanting to tell her everything. “And everyone’s going along with their lives and I’m watching it happen.”

“How often is that?”

“Less now,” Steve shrugged, gazing at the floor. “It was worse when I first woke up.”  Now instead of every night, they’re just most nights.

Eleanore didn’t answer, and Steve glanced up and saw her chewing her lip, thinking.  Great, now she’s going to hold me away from battle.

“I dream that people I love die,” she spoke up, startling Steve. “It’s not that bad, I just wake up and realize it’s not true.”

“How often?”

“Most nights. It’s how I wake up in the morning a lot.” She shrugged, taking a deep breath. “But enough about that. There’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.

“What’s that?” Hearing her admit to her inner demons made Steve feel better about his own. 

“I think Loki should face rehabilitation, not punishment.”

“Yeah?” Steve wasn’t too surprised about that. She had made her opinion on the state of the demigod’s mental health pretty clear. She’d asked Fury to let her heal him when they’d left the first meeting, and upon being denied she’d frowned and cited the rules of war. Fury had rolled his good eye and sighed, and she’d given up with a scowl.

“Yeah. So I’m going to talk to his parents about that. I thought you should know.”

“I’ll support you,” Steve replied, “But I don’t know how much they’ll listen.”

“We can worry about that later,” Eleanore told him, yawning again.

“You should go get some sleep now,” Steve suggested, noting the circles forming under her eyes.

“I should call my mom,” Eleanore stood suddenly as the idea occurred to her. “Are you going to go to sleep?”

“Going to try,” Steve shrugged and stood as she made for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” she smiled at him. “See you tomorrow.”

Steve let the door shut and turned the light off, feeling his way back to his bed and lying down. With all the new things to worry about, he doubted he’d get much sleep, although he felt tired. He lay awake for half an hour, and heard Eleanore talking as she walked past his door to get back to her room.

“Okay Mom. Love you too.” A burst of calm washed over Steve, and he felt himself relaxing, even though he knew The feeling wasn’t his own. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, when he felt more tranquil than he had since waking up in 2012. Feeling better overall, he drifted into a sleep filled with dreams of a red dress, with matching lips, the laughter of old friends and new, of Eleanore talking to a young Peggy and the two of them laughing, and Darren discussing science with his grandfather, and the feeling that, there, he did belong.


	4. Meeting & Leaving

Loki was kept busy trying to keep his memories at bay, lest the little mind-seer look into his thoughts. He did not keep track of the time, and only looked knew that at least a full day had passed when his door opened and Thor entered the small, windowless room. He stood in regal glory, his armor cleaned and polished, his red cape flowing with each movement, and his demeanor well-rested and fully healed.

Thor paused and just  looked at him, and Loki imagined what a sight he must make, shackled to a metal chair, gagged, in the same dirt and armor from the battle. Thor’s blue eyes searched Loki’s own, and he finally sighed and spoke.

“Brother, arrangements have been made to take you to Asgard to face justice for your crimes. We leave within the day.” And with that, he swept from the room, not bothering to look back.

Loki pondered this before discarding it as  not important. He could hear Thor’s boots thunking down the hall for some time after he had left, and after a short time they returned, along with the brown-haired water witch. Loki sent a special glare at her, followed by anger and thoughts of malice. He threw in some heinous thoughts specifically for  her that ought to have sent her into hysterics if she was truly reading his mind. Instead, she looked calmly at him and stood back while Thor undid Loki’s shackles from the chair.

“Stand, Brother.” Thor ordered, pulling Loki up by his right arm.

“Easy,” the witch cautioned, moving to stand on Loki’s other side. Loki looked closely at her. She was young, even younger than he, if he translated his Asgardian age to Midgardian years. She stood at Thor’s shoulder, taller than the Widow woman, but much shorter than Loki himself. She had long chestnut hair that was tied back in a braid and further kept with a white band around her head, and she wore a gray tunic, blue pants of some unknown material that appeared common on Midgard, and brown leather boots that scuffed quietly when she walked. She held herself with an air of confidence that could translate to authority or arrogance in other situations, looking both of the men before her directly in the eye. Her eyes were brown, and in the dim light of the room they looked very dark indeed. A leather pack was slung over her shoulder and she kept adjusting its strap as she stood next to the God of Thunder.

“Here,” she addressed Loki as Thor was unlocking his legs, moving a bit closer to him and holding out one hand. “I’ll heal you a bit.” 

Loki just glared at her, not bothering to hide any of his loathing. 

“Come on,” she said, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. Loki was held fast still by the chains at his feet, and he refused to fall undignifiedly in an attempt to twitch away. Nevertheless, he vowed to return and make this mortal or her descendants suffer for this insult one day.

That was, until he felt a warming sensation that traveled quickly from his arm to his chest, and blossomed outward, removing some pain wherever it landed. His collarbone knitted first, not completely but enough to take away much discomfort. Then came his leg, and the bewitchment even moved to his head, and Loki began to feel his mind clear a fraction as this peculiar magic worked. Still, he wanted this she-witch to stop touching his royal person, and the moment Thor was done removing his legs from the chair Loki quickly stepped away from her, pondering how much Thor would hurt him if he lashed out.

“Careful, Lady Eleanore,” Thor warned the wench, who only looked amused. “Loki is still stronger by far than a Midgardian man.”

“Okay Thor,” this  Eleanore replied, smiling at him and finally at Loki.  Mocking damsel.  “Let’s get him to the launch site.”

The trip was made in a large, black Midgardian vehicle with tinted shieldings where the windows should have been. Loki was seated in the back of this with Thor alone, as the two of them took up as much room as three humans would have. The  witch sat in front of Thor, behind yet another clear partition that Loki supposed was for her protection. A nervous young agent drove them through the city, the buildings blocking out the early morning sunlight. The vehicle itself emitted a purring noise that strengthened to a growl as they got underway, growing louder and softer with their speed. To Loki, it was a grating sound, like the growl of the Chitauri dungeon master, and he tensed up each time it increased.

Their drive was not long, however, and they soon disembarked in the middle of a paved courtyard walled on one side by trees where the rest of the so-called Avengers stood in waiting. Loki received glares from each one of them, but especially from the one called Hawkeye, who fingered a knife at his belt and looked at Loki like a piece of dead meat. The Captain and the young sorcerer were the least hostile, if Loki was rating them on a scale. Now that Loki had a better chance to see him in person, the young man looked vaguely familiar, though there was no way to place him in the cloudy, crowded huddle of his thoughts. Both the Captain and the magician came forward and spoke to the woman in low voices as soon as she stepped out of the horseless carriage.

Through the foliage Loki glimpsed people running and walking leisurely, and he assumed that they must be near a park. The buildings around them looked undamaged. The Chitauri must not have gotten this far.

“Agent Engman,” the Captain greeted the sorceress much more professionally than he had the day before. He wore plain mortal clothing; a brown jacket of leather, a checkered tunic, leggings of the same blue material as the witch, and brown shoes. Then he nodded to Thor and fell behind him to escort Loki to the middle of the flagstone clearing.

“Be careful. You don’t even have to go, you know,” the young sorcerer spoke low and… lovingly, Loki thought, as he and the woman followed after the Captain and Thor. Loki was still trying to place the man’s magic and his face. It tugged on his memory in an almost-formed thought that refused to shape. “Steve knows what you want. He can see to i—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice took a more loving tone as well, but still maintained its ring of authority. “Steve isn’t going alone, and neither am I. We’ve been invited, and it would be rude to decline. Besides,” she smiled at her young man, “I’ll be back soon, and that’s where your work can begin. Invent some stuff for me while I’m gone.”

“I will.” The boy’s face grew deathly serious, and he pulled the sorceress into a tight embrace. “Just come back safe,” he whispered. Loki gazed around, noting how the others’ expressions seemed to soften at the display of affection, while Stark looked on with what seemed to be pride.  When I return for my revenge, I will first target the man, and then his woman. 

As the couple parted, Thor cleared his throat. “My friends, it is time we depart. Good Captain and Lady Eleanore, to me.” So saying, Thor turned to a nondescript man in a black suit who was carrying a black case that  hummed with untapped power. Loki was not surprised when Thor pulled the Tesseract out of it, encased in some metal and clear barriers.

“Brother,” he said, turning to Loki, who knew his part and grabbed the other end of the casement. “Captain, Lady.” Loki’s eyes widened in surprised as the other two placed their hands on top of Thor’s.  Surely he jests… they cannot travel with us. Has he gone mad? They will die, or be left on Asgard forever.

Thor looked at Loki’s expression and laughed, “The measurements have been made, Brother, and the Captain and Lady are guests of the house of Odin. He will ensure their safety, along with Heimdall. They have much to discuss, as the affairs of Midgard are now and forever connected to Asgard.” Loki rolled his eyes.  Mere mortals will not survive this journey, Thor.  But this was of no consequence to him. If they died due to Thor’s carelessness, so be it.

The witch and the Captain exchanged almost-nervous glances, and the leader of the Avengers stepped closer to the woman. “We’re ready.”

“Very well. Farewell for now, my shield-brothers. May fortune shine greatly upon you!” 

With that enthusiastic salute, Thor turned the handle to release the Tesseract’s power, and Loki’s world was lost in colors and light.

His eyes refocused on the the mortals’ huddled figures a moment later as he gained his footing on a smooth surface. The water witchling was leaning into the Captain’s chest, and he’d pulled her close to his body in a panicked embrace. They were both looking outward, as though to face their doom as it approached.  Not, Loki mused, that that would have saved them, if the Tesseract had spit them out during the trip.  He pictured them spinning endlessly through the void, never aging, left in an eternity of darkness and confusion.  If only…

“We have arrived, my friends.” Thor said, gently extricating the Tesseract’s vessel from their hands. Loki looked around, noting that they were on the lifeless Rainbow Bridge where it connected Asgard’s land with the void. The gates stood open and behind them the citadel loomed large, closing them in on one side with golden light, while the other side was lost to a lack of color where the only the stars and galaxies brought order to the undisguised chaos. The time was around midmorning, the sun casting an angled glow on the city and the travelers alike.

The Captain and the sorceress had separated, but they still stayed close to each other as they gaped at their surroundings. The woman absently reached behind her and dug into her bag, hand emerging with a small black device that made a chiming noise as she powered it up. It was square and shiny, a lens a bit like a small telescope pointing out of its front. She raised it a little, and looked to Thor who nodded. Then she began pointing the lens at the city and the bridge and pressing a button on the top. The device made tiny clicking noises, and Loki guessed that this was a Midgardian way of capturing still images.

“Incredible,” Loki heard the blond man mutter under his breath. He was staring at the end of the bridge, down into the void where Loki had fallen. The woman stayed silent, her eyes darting around and drinking everything in.

“Father has sent a party to greet us,” Thor observed. And indeed, there was a riding party galloping toward them, with palace guards and extra horses for the travelers. Loki even identified his own horse, Amund. Seeing him sent a pang through Loki’s heart, but he held himself aloof from the emotion until it faded into the background.

Thor greeted the guards, and they dismounted and bowed to the golden prince and his companions, pointedly ignoring Loki.

“My Lord,” said the leader of the guards after the formal greetings had taken place, “Your father, Odin King, requests your presence in the Throne Room immediately.”

“And what of the prisoner?” Thor inquired coldly, regaining his air of leadership and poise completely as the mantle of Crown Prince fell once again, invisibly, around his shoulders.

“The King has decreed that he shall await his sentence in the dungeon. A cell has been equipped specially for him.” The guard did not look at Loki, maintaining his gaze on the three in front of him.

“Very well,” Thor said. “My friends, shall we away?”

“Um, yes.” The Captain actually looked a bit nervous as he approached the horse the guards led out for him. He swung into the saddle with no trouble, however, and soon his balance matched that of a novice, at least.

“Sidesaddle?” the woman, Lady Eleanore, asked from where she’d been scratching her horse’s neck and ears. It was an older palace stallion, and Loki knew him from his gray coat and calm demeanor. Many novice riders had been placed on this horse’s back. The mortal woman seemed comfortable with petting the animal, but eyed the saddle distastefully.

“It is customary for ladies to ride so,” Thor said, walking up to her. “Allow me to assist you.”

Loki smirked as well as he could behind the gag, thinking of Sif who hadn’t ridden traditionally in over a thousand years.

“Alright,” she replied, eyeing the offending equipment. She put her foot in Thor’s offered hand and was mounted quickly. Loki heard her whisper, “I think I’ll fall off this way if we go faster than a walk.”

Thor only grinned up at her, “Never fear. The horse will not let you fall.” At this, she smiled a bit ruefully and shrugged.

Lastly, Thor unlocked the chains connecting Loki’s leg shackles, and offered to help Loki onto Amund after the horse had gently nuzzled his former prince. Loki ignored the affection and the assistance and swung gracefully to his place in the saddle, taking the reins in his cuffed hands and setting off with his head held high. Never mind the discomfort from his injuries; that was minor compared to the damage his pride would take at receiving help form he guards he had formerly commanded. Thor and the guards quickly mounted up and followed , forming a ring around Loki while the Captain and the witch followed side by side, one guard stationed behind them to bring up the rear.

The ride to the castle was direct and scenic, as it went through the main marketplace and public gardens, ending at the main palace gate. The road was crowded with the usual morning traffic, though everyone pulled to the side and made way for the Prince and his entourage. Faces turned smiling to Thor, some even laughing a greeting, and freezing when they saw Loki in his muzzle and chains. He ignored them, staring straight ahead and did not see the expressions the Midgardians drew.

They reached the palace gates in a short time, and the leader of their guard pulled them to a halt in front of the main entrance.

“This is where we leave you, Sire,” he told Thor. “My orders are to escort the prisoner to his cell.” Thor nodded at him and the other guards, and Loki was surrounded again, the rear guard taking Thor’s place. 

“My comrades, welcome to Asgard.” Loki could hear Thor’s declarations and enthusiasm as he was led around to the far side of the palace. Loki knew where they were headed, and so he was prepared when the guards stopped. 

He dismounted with them, allowing them to surround him once more as they led him over to a patch of cobblestone in the shade of the castle walls. The guard in front stamped his foot three times in succession on the ground, and with a scraping, noise the secret dungeon entrance was revealed. It was a staircase that led deep into the ground under the palace. Loki had explored it many times before in his youth, when wandering away from Thor and his raucous group, or making mid-night exploits when he was bored. It was expected for future kings to know the grounds of their palace, but Thor had never been much for divining secrets. Thus, Loki was certain his not-brother knew little of this entrance.

The guards took him down the stairs to a dark hallway where cells were made of clear magic to contain the more dangerous criminals. Energy thrummed around Loki, and the magic suppressed inside him turned his stomach as it responded to the call of like to like.

If only I could be free of these shackles and harness that energy, Loki thought wistfully as they stopped outside a barren cell with yellow walls. This cage must have been made specially for him, as the magic was too strong here to hide from even mortal vision.

Unbidden, a brief flash of memory brought Loki before the golden throne of Thanos. 

This was the first of many times the self-proclaimed courter of Death had called Loki forth to offer a bargain. Loki had been treated relatively well, his wounds healed, and he had only been on the rock for a short time.

“So, Odinson,” Thanos began, his voice graveling against Loki’s ears. “It seems fate has brought us together.”

Abruptly, Loki’s vision cleared and he was back in the same dark hallway, the confused guards flanking him, calling his name.

“Prince Loki, enter the cell,” the lead guard intimated, and from his tone Loki knew he’d said these words before. He nodded and walked through the collapsed magic wall. His bindings stayed on as it sealed behind him, and he wondered how long they would keep him chained like an animal. His wonderings were answered as the wall reappeared and his shackles vanished into thin air.

Finally fully mobile, Loki turned his head to take in his surroundings. Furniture appeared as soon as the barrier was completely sealed, silently placing itself with a small burst of energy. A bed, small by Asgardian standards but still luxuriously soft-looking, was covered by a dark green blanket and a couple of similar pillows. Two or three books Loki recognized from his personal library stood on a small table next to a tray of food and water. The room was otherwise bare, the back wall and floor an opaque white instead of the shimmering yellow of the restrictive magic. 

Thinking of magic, Loki reached for his own, only to find it slipping out of his grasp. He could still feel his ability, but he lacked control over it. It was like being a child again, learning from his mother— Frigga— how to bend and shape the power to his will.  Frustrating. But not unexpected.

Sighing slightly, but otherwise outwardly calm, Loki ventured over to the bed and gingerly lowered himself onto it. Much of the pain was gone, thanks to the water witch’s healing, and he was left only with a faint soreness and some sharp discomfort in his leg. That and his collarbone were still not fully healed, nor were many of the scrapes and bruises he’d endured. Loki regretted that, as it made him look more pitiful and defeated than he ever wanted to appear. Especially before Odin and Frigga.

But perhaps it will play on their sympathies, he thought, settling back onto the mattress and closing his eyes. If nothing else, Loki was known for his base manipulation and opportunistic nature. When he was dealt a bad hand, he learned to play his opponents so they believed he had won. While it had not granted him many friends on Asgard, it had kept him and Thor alive over the years, and all of their adventures had only served to improve Loki’s skill. If Odin wanted a defeated, humble political gambit to return, Loki would meet him with resistance, pride, and power. As soon as the shackles were removed outside of the cell, he planned on teleporting away to hidden portals to other realms, and there hiding from the House of Odin and Thanos alike. His favorite part about this plan was its unspecific nature. Anyone could follow a detailed plot, but it took improvisation to set people back, shock them, and make them drop their guard.

Let them come, the words drifted triumphantly through his mind as he felt himself falling asleep for the first time in several weeks, only the faint hum of magic keeping him company.

 


	5. Negotiations

Steve and Eleanore stayed close as Thor led them through enormous halls and stately pavilions, all open to the air and all carved from what looked like marble. People dressed in strange— to Steve— clothing stopped and stared at them, and he could hear whispers following them through the vaulted passages.

“Thor,” Eleanore whispered once they’d reached an empty hallway. “Hang on a sec.”

“What is it?” Thor stopped and looked at her with impatient concern. Steve guessed he must be eager to see his parents again, and tell them he’d brought his brother home.

“When we meet your— the king and Queen,” Eleanore stepped closer to him and lowered her voice even more. “How are we supposed to greet them? What’s the etiquette here? I’m not wearing a skirt so I can’t curtsy.” Steve had been trying to figure out what was different about her face since he’d seen her that morning. He stared at her until it occurred to him.  Makeup. It was subtle, but it made her eyes look bigger and darker. Steve felt satisfied to have finally figured it out.

“Ah,” Thor nodded sagely. “An excellent question. Visitors from other realms use their own forms of greeting. I was made aware of the hand-shake in my time on Midgard. That will be sufficient. This meeting is, I think, to be held privately in my father’s study.” He turned and started to walk again, before halting. “And hand your bags to the next servants we see.”

“Oh,” was all Eleanore said, looking thoughtful, and Thor grinned and started to lead them again. Steve was glad she’d asked because he hadn’t even thought of that, as concerned as he was with the people staring at them. No matter how long he was Captain America, it still made him uncomfortable. Thor found a worker in the next hallway and had them take Steve and Eleanore’s bags to their rooms.

The rest of the journey was short, and Steve noticed that the doors they walked through grew more ornate as they went in toward the center of the palace. Murals depicting Thor and Loki, along with many other warriors, old and young, were splashed across the walls in a variety of battle scenes against mythical creatures and enemies. Steve caught the gist: Asgard was a warrior society that valued strength and honor above all else. 

A couple of flights of stairs and about a mile of walking later, and Thor finally halted in front of a small set of dark wooden doors that had two elaborately clad guards stationed, one of each side. They moved to open the doors and Steve followed Thor into the room, Eleanore walking beside him.

It was more like a library than a study, with books lining two of the walls and a set of chairs meant for lounging set around a fireplace. Two silent, staring ravens perched on stands that sat on either side of the desk, and in front of that impressive piece of furniture stood a man Steve recognized from the murals outside, along with a beautiful woman. Odin had Steve’s attention, but Frigga drew his eye as memories of his mother started flashing through his mind. He tore his eyes away from her kind face and forced himself to focus on the man Thor was introducing them to first.

“My friends, this is Odin Allfather, King of Asgard.” Steve walked up to Frigga and held out his hand, since Elle was already moving toward Odin. The Queen shook it firmly without hesitation. “And Frigga Allmother, Queen of Asgard.”

“Pleased to meet you ma’am,” Steve greeted Frigga. The Queen wore a stately golden dress with matching jewelry in her hair and on her fingers. 

“This is Lady Eleanore, a warrior and healer.” They switched places so Eleanore could greet Frigga.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Her informal greeting and genuine smile earned her a look of satisfaction from the Queen.

“It is an honor to meet the woman who has healed both my sons,” Frigga’s proclamation brought confusion to Eleanore’s expression, but she shrugged.

“I only really healed one of them.”

“Father, this is the Captain of America. A most honorable warrior, and my shield-brother.” Thor sounded proud, and Steve wondered if it was for his father or for him.

“Greetings,” Odin bade him. “It is an honor to meet you Captain.” Odin wore light armor that reminded Steve of Thor’s, only with some gold and a dark red cape. 

Introductions over, they stood for a moment before Frigga gestured to the cushioned seats. “Will you sit with us?”

Steve nodded, and he and Eleanore followed the incomplete family to the set of six chairs. Steve couldn’t help thinking of Loki, whose place was obvious and remained empty. Odin took the chair to the left of the fire and Frigga sat next to him. Thor placed himself next to the empty seat in the middle, and Eleanore and Steve sat side by side across from the king and Queen.

“Now,” Frigga continued after they had settled in. “What would you wish to discuss?”

Steve could feel her placing the ball in their court, both out of politeness and as a test. For the first time, he realized that this visit could be construed as a way to ask Asgard for money to atone for the damage and to aid in relations. He felt uncomfortable.

“I’d like to know what’s going to happen to Loki,” Eleanore spoke up decidedly, either not feeling Steve’s apprehension or not caring. She always got right to the point, so it wasn’t too much of a shock that she’d immediately brought up the subject she’d been most concerned about. What threw Steve off was her attitude, which was on-edge and challenging. It made him uneasy just to look at her.

“We have yet to decide on a fitting punishment,” Odin admitted, his face falling into a scowl. “One that will teach my wayward son his place. For now he will remain locked in the dungeon with no contact, that he may think about his crimes.”

“Well, that won’t work,” Elle looked from him to Frigga and back, getting bemused expressions from both. “You know that won’t work, don’t you? Haven’t you tried it before?” Steve stopped himself from gaping at her, but he did turn to watch her speak. She was in earnest, raising her eyebrows and going into full information mode.

Odin was not amused at being contradicted. “What business is it of yours what I do with my son?”

“He attacked my home,” Eleanore pointed out, not bothering to hide her matter-of-fact tone. She hated repeating obvious facts, for the most part, and she hated when people tried to change her mind. She’d told Steve that once, when a telemarketer wouldn’t let her off the phone until she claimed to have died of boredom. Now she was getting into an argument not with a harmless person’s voice, but with a live king who could have her thrown back to Earth in a heartbeat.

“And he committed atrocities here as well,” Odin told her. He was irritated, and Steve tensed.

“Yeah, and when you’ve punished him before, how well did that teach him a lesson? It’s in our mythology, and Thor said some of it is true.” Eleanore shifted to the edge of her seat, clearly wanting to stand and pace. Steve didn’t know whether to butt in or let her talk. “But it doesn’t matter what he did, at least not at this point.”

“Lady Eleanore, he killed your people,” Thor cut in, looking at her in pure shock. Steve guessed that no one had ever spoken to his father that way in front of him before.

“Well, he killed some.” Eleanore nodded. “But I want to talk about the root of the problem first. Mind control.”

“Mind control?” Odin almost laughed. “You underestimate Loki’s stubbornness.”

“And you underestimate how awful he looked when he got to Earth. He was clearly tortured. I have the video here,” she pulled out her cell phone.

“You may show us your primitive magic later,” Odin dismissed her with a wave of his hand. 

Eleanore visibly bristled. Steve hoped she was about to bring this pompous old man down a level, to hell with the consequences.

She did not disappoint. “Do you want to hear my ideas, or do you want to pat us on the head like good little children and send us back to Earth?”

Her question brought Odin upright in his chair, and he stared at her with one good eye. “You dare speak to a sovereign in this manner?”

“I guess so,” Eleanore shrugged, and Steve bit back a smile. 

“Look,” he spoke up, wanting to help, seeing that Eleanore had been pretty much right in her pre-assessment of Odin the night before. “We would just like to have a— a conversation about what will happen to Loki. We have to worry about his revenge, after all.”

Asgard’s king narrowed his eye, turning his attention to Steve. “Loki will be held prisoner, no matter his punishment.”

“That still doesn’t resolve the issue,” Eleanore protested. 

“The issue is in my family,” Odin stated, his voice carrying a note of finality. “We will resolve it here.”

“Resolve wherever you want, but for god’s sake, open your mind.” Steve was about to stop her because she was being much more antagonistic than conversational.

“My mind is none of your concern.”

“Look, can I just talk for a minute?” Eleanore raised her hands. “I’ll tell you what I see as the problem, and then I’ll be done. You can talk to Steve for the rest of the visit, and I won’t say a word.”

“You have the title of guest in my home,” Odin growled, and Steve heard the undertone  For now… “I will hear your voice.”

“Thanks.” Elle took another breath, and her words sped up. “I think Loki needs a place to heal, and a prison or punishment on Asgard isn’t the place to do that. I mean, he’s going to outlive all the Avengers by a  long time. There’s no quick fix besides execution that will keep Earth safe if he wants revenge. And I asked Thor. He doesn’t think Loki will be put to death, which I think is good because he really was under the influence of that scepter. Facts to back that up: He and one of ours both had the strong emotional reactions associated with the scepter’s control. A discussion between our team got out of hand because of that glowy stick. Around the scepter, whatever anyone felt was amplified, whether it was focus, anger, fear, or sadness. In my opinion, neither our agent or Loki himself were acting under Loki’s will. Why? Because they both did things that they would never have done before. Thor talked to us about Loki this morning at breakfast, and he seemed to think he’d gone insane. Not far from the truth. Loki was carrying out someone else’s will, someone who gave him the Chitauri army. Conclusion? He was sent to fight and gauge Earth’s strength, possibly getting the Tesseract back.” She stopped and looked at Steve, “Okay, I’m done.”

“This is all hearsay,” Odin muttered. Thor was looking back and forth between his father and his guests with a somber expression. Steve was absorbing all the information that Elle had apparently been thinking about since who-knew-when. He’d known she’d wanted to help the family heal, but this was incredible. She was also acting differently from her usual calm self-assuredness. Steve hadn’t seen her this agitated before, not even when he got emotional, or when she argued with Tony.

“And how do you see that? Their feelings?” Frigga asked, and her voice alone diffused some of the tension that was building. Eleanore was still as taut as a tripwire, but Odin sat back in his chair and contemplated her, letting his Queen speak.

“I have the power to read and influence other people’s emotions,” Eleanore told her honestly. “Loki is… well, we study the mind on Earth, and he’s not exhibiting any classical signs of insanity. It’s more like his thoughts seem to get on a track, then derailed by a powerful memory associated with something.”

“Interesting,” Frigga leaned forward a bit. “Have you any other thoughts on the matter?” She was really engrossed in the subject, and listening to Eleanore with something like hope written on her face.

“Look, I don’t claim to know all your family history,” Eleanore began, holding up her hands. “But I really don’t think a violent punishment is going to get you anywhere with Loki.”

“And what will?” Odin challenged her, a look of satisfaction on his face. He thought he’d won with that simple question.

“Healing,” Eleanore answered promptly. She’d been waiting to throw that out since her feet had touched the dark bridge, Steve could tell. She looked so excited to share what she knew with the royal family. 

“It is easy enough to state a word, but what plans do you have to put it into practice?” The old king was calling for her intentions. Steve hadn’t heard any plans from Eleanore the night before, only that she thought Loki should be spared and healed. Then again

“I have a number of ideas,” Eleanore started. “First, I have to know some things about Asgard, though. Do you have any healers devoted to matters of emotion or the mind?”

“Emotion?” Odin did laugh, a hearty, condescending chuckle that bit through the air and into Steve’s mind. “A warrior holds himself strong on and off the field.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” Eleanore ignored his tone. “So you don’t talk to anyone about your feelings.”

“No.”

“That explains a lot.” She looked around the room. “So that’s why you think I’m crazy.”

Odin stayed silent, obviously agreeing.

“Does Midgard have such healing?” Frigga asked, her tone polite.

“Yeah,” Steve knew about this, and he was tired of staying silent. “It’s called psychology or therapy. Trained people help patients talk through their problems.” He avoided looking at Eleanore at all, not wanting these people to know that he was in such a program. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but it might make him look weak in their eyes.

“So on Earth one is not punished for murder?” Odin asked snidely.

“They are,” Eleanore admitted. “But we try to find what caused them to do it.”

“And where does that lead you?” Frigga asked, laying a hand on Odin’s arm.

“Sometimes we can prevent the crimes. Sometimes we can help people before they do something like that. Psychology is the study of the mind, and it helps both heal victims and catch villains.”

“And which do you think Loki is?” Frigga asked quietly, her hand tightening on her husband’s.

“Honestly, both.” Eleanore told her, her voice more gentle with the Queen. “His mind is injured, but he knows in part what he’s doing. He’s intelligent and cunning. I can feel it.”

“What do you feel from him?”

“Hurt.” Eleanore closed her eyes and sighed, and Steve remembered the hallway outside Loki’s door and the emotions there. “He’s sad and lonely, and so, so angry. He wears his anger like a shield to hide his uncertainty. He won’t show anyone how broken he is. When he sees Thor, it’s like a knife through his heart. When he sees me, it’s like a brand.”

“Show me,” Frigga stood and offered her hand. 

“I’d… rather not.” Eleanore stood, but stayed by her chair.

“Why?” 

“They’re Loki’s private emotions, and you’re who made him so sad. All of you, not just you Queen Frigga.” Eleanore quickly amended her generalization as the Queen’s expression dropped. Steve wondered if Elle felt guilty for showing him Loki’s emotions as well.

“Prove your power.” Odin challenged again, standing next to his wife. “Show her what she wants to see.”

“I don’t answer to you,” Elle informed him, and Steve stood, ready to push her out of the way if Odin took a swing. “But I’ll prove my power to  her.  My way.” She held out her hand. “If I may?”

“Certainly,” Frigga placed her hand in Eleanore’s and Elle just stared her straight in the eye. 

Frigga’s expression started off calm, and quickly turned into a thoughtful frown. She held Eleanore’s hand tightly for a few moments in the silent room, then let her go.

“Most remarkable,” was her sole comment, and she continued to watch the younger woman cautiously.

“Powers or no—” Odin began, his voice impatient.

“My dear,” Frigga interrupted him. “I think we should have our guests shown to their rooms in the east wing. The hour for feasting approaches and they may want to dress.” She looked meaningfully at her husband, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“As you wish.”

“My friends, I will show you to your quarters,” Thor stood, clearly anxious to leave the room. He’d been silent for most of the discussion, his expressions ranging from consideration to disbelief.

Eleanore and Steve followed him back out the door and into the guarded hallway. It was another long, silent walk further into the palace and up several flights of stairs into what seemed a modest passage in comparison to the grandeur of the rest of the palace. The doors were shorter, still well above head-height, and they were made of wood carved with leafy designs. The floor and walls were still marble, but patterned tapestries hung from them instead of paintings. 

Thor brought them to a halt in front of two doors that stood side by side. They had baskets hanging from them full of flowers that Steve didn’t recognize.

“This is where I leave you,” Thor said gruffly. “Lady Eleanore, it would be best if you did not speak so freely to the king and Queen in a public setting.”

“I won’t,” Eleanore promised, smiling up at the troubled demigod.

“Is it true, what you said?” Thor asked cautiously. “About Loki’s mind?”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“Do you think he can be saved?”

“Don’t think of it as saving him, Thor. There’s no quick fix, like I said,” Eleanore’s brow creased again, and she looked from Thor to Steve. “Think of it as a long-term healing that could take years.”

“Years are of little consequence,” Thor said seriously. “I just want to have my brother back.”

“Well, he’ll probably never be the same.” Eleanore was honest, and Steve nodded, thinking of the torture and how it had changed Bucky back in the War. “But I’ll tell you this, and I believe it from the bottom of my heart. If he doesn’t get to heal, he’s going to break completely.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Thor nodded gravely. “You have given me much to ponder. Now, these are your rooms, Captain on the right, Lady on the left. Servants will attend you.”

“Thanks,” Steve grinned at him, and received a polite half-smile in return. Thor looked like he was deep in thought already.

“I will see you at the festivities,” the demigod promised, and turned to walk away, his cape billowing behind him.

Steve an Eleanore were soon left alone.

“Well,” Elle broke the silence. “That could have gone worse.”

“I didn’t know you’d thought of all that,” Steve commented, thinking back to their discussion the night before.

“I don’t usually say everything I’m thinking. It takes too much time.”

“Oh.” Peggy had been a little like that, Steve remembered, in some ways. She didn’t talk about her feelings, but she did outline ideas and plans, and she definitely gave orders.

“Steve?” he looked down to find her staring at one of the tapestries.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell anyone else about Loki’s problems. Please?” Elle was good at giving order too, but again she didn't relay her reasons.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not anyone else’s business, and I don’t think he’d want anyone to know.”

“You care what he wants?” Steve wasn’t entirely surprised, but he didn’t quite understand it.

“Well, if they’re going to try healing him, then they should start out with him feeling like he has some of his image still intact.”

“I guess so,” Steve agreed. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Thanks. When is this feast, anyway?” She settled into a more companionable attitude, and Steve once again felt like he was talking to Elle, his friend, instead of Eleanore, the living definition of sass.

“They didn’t say,” he looked around, hearing footsteps from the corner ahead of them. “But I think our… people are here.” He didn’t want to call anyone a servant.

Sure enough, a man and a woman dressed in plain clothes rounded the corner and hesitated slightly at the sight of Steve and Eleanore standing in the hallway. Eleanore turned to face them.

“My lord and lady,” the woman said, rushing forward. “Are your rooms not open?” She had gray hair and her skin was wrinkled with age, but she moved with a quiet grace similar to the Queen’s.

“We haven’t tried them yet,” Elle assured her, giving her a smile. “We were just talking.”

“Understood, my lady,” the woman opened Eleanore’s door and held out her arm. “The feast begins quite soon, so the Queen requested I assist you with your preparations.”

“Okay,” Eleanore agreed, turning to Steve, “catch you on the flip side.”

“Bye.” The male servant also held the door for him, and Steve entered his own room.

It was large, bigger than his and Eleanore’s apartments combined. The entryway curved up to meld seamlessly with the ceiling, and the ceiling drew back down to open windows with thin, filmy drapes waving in the sunny breeze. It looked to be around four o’clock in the afternoon, although Steve had no way of telling time on Asgard. 

“This way, sir,” the attendant motioned for him to step through into the larger room, and Steve complied.

A huge bed occupied a raised platform on the right wall, covered in blankets and furs, and a large desk with paper laid out sat opposite. There was a door next to the desk through which Steve could see a tub. 

“Excuse me,” he said, suddenly feeling his day full of travel and speech. “I’m just going to… Yeah.”

“Will you be wearing your own clothes sir, or would you like me to choose something for you?” the man asked as Steve stepped away.

“Um, whatever you think would be fine.” Steve got into the bathroom and closed the door with relief. There was something like a toilet near the far wall. Steve tested it before confirming that that was what it was.

When he opened the door again, the man was standing beside his bed, a neutral expression on his face. There was a blue tunic and brown leather pants laid out on the blankets, and boots sat on the floor.

“Does the clothing suit you?” the man asked, and Steve got tired of calling him ‘the man’ in his head.

“It looks fine,” he assured him, “I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

“Gerimond,” was the surprised reply. Steve guessed that not many visitors asked he names of the servants. He had bright blond hair and blue eyes, typical of Asgardians from what Steve could tell.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve didn’t bother sticking out his hand, figuring it would take more time to explain the gesture than it was worth.

“You as well.” Gerimond motioned to the clothing. “Would you prefer to bathe before dressing?”

“Uh, no, I think I’m good.” Steve had showered the night before, and he still felt pretty clean. Then he thought the better of it. “Do people normally do that?”

“It is as you wish, sir, I am only required to ask.”

“OK, and call me Steve.” Gerimond nodded, and Steve wondered how likely he was to follow that order. “So… I’ll get dressed.”

“I can assist you, s-Steve, if that would be preferable.”

“No thanks, I think I’ve got it.” The only time Steve could remember someone helping him get dressed was the first time he’d tried on his combat Captain America suit. Both the tunic and the leather pants looked pretty self-explanatory. Much simpler than all the buckles associated with the old suit.

“Would you like anything brought to your room?” Gerimond was still standing right by the clothes, and Steve wanted him to stop waiting for him to strip.

“Yeah, could I have some…” he glanced around, noting no water or glasses in the room. “…thing to drink? Water?”

“Of course, I will return shortly.” Gerimond finally left, closing the door silently behind him.

Steve quickly undressed and pulled the tunic over his head, taking a little more time with the ties on the pants. The clothing all fit surprisingly well, and he wondered if Asgard had magic closets that spit out the clothes in one’s size. He felt his hair and found it smooth. 

He was pulling on the boots when the door opened again to admit Gerimond.

“Sir-Steve, your lady wishes to know if you would like some etiquette lessons,” he spoke quietly, carrying a tray with a pitcher and glass over to where Steve leaned against the bed.

“Sure,” Steve replied, again grateful to whoever thought of it. In this case, he thought, it could have been Eleanore or the female servant. He took a long drink from the glass and felt refreshed. “But she’s not  my lady.” He thought Eleanore would be grateful for the distinction.

“Please excuse my assumption. They are still preparing, but will call upon us when they are finished,” Gerimond took the tray back when Steve replaced the cup and stood still, waiting.

“Do you want to teach me some things so I’m ready for them?” It was better than awkwardly standing around. 

“Certainly.” Gerimond set the tray down on a nearby table and faced Steve. “What would you like to know?”

“Um, I don’t know what I don’t know,” Steve admitted freely, feeling like he was discovering the Internet all over again. “Just show me whatever you want.”

“Well, typically ladies are escorted into the feasts on the arm of a gentleman,” Gerimond held his arm crooked, and Steve mimicked him. It was almost exactly like Earth’s old custom. “Their dresses are… somewhat of a hazard.”

Steve smiled, picturing himself tripping over Elle’s skirt, or worse, tearing it. “I’ll watch out for that.”

“You will be seate—” Gerimond began again, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He walked over to answer it. “My lady, please enter.”

“Thank you,” Elle’s voice came from the doorway, but the serving woman entered first with her head held high. 

Steve did a double take when Elle actually walked in. She looked… different. He’d never seen her dress up before, and it was disconcerting to try to reconcile the strong-willed, intelligent, excellent fighter he knew with this woman who looked like an Asgardian princess. She was wearing a sleeveless dress with an intricate metal bodice made of silver that curved to an end at her waist. A flowing, light gray skirt fell from there to her feet, and the material reminded Steve of flowing water every time she moved. Her hair was down, curly, and pinned back from her face by a couple of pins that matched the metal on her dress.

“Wow,” he complemented, knowing she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

Sure enough, the same self-assured, happy smile broke out across her face. “I know, I love this dress! And look at the shoes,” She lifted her skirt, and Steve heard the woman behind her gasp. Steve saw Elle’s feet encased in some kind of low-cut, black leather boot with no heels that made little noise as she pranced around suddenly and spun. Her skirt billowed out around her in layers, and she laughed.

“That behavior is not appropriate for the banquet,” the matron spoke up walking between Steve and Eleanore. 

“Okay Saetta,” Eleanore stopped moving, and her dress followed suit after a few seconds. She still trailed her hand through the material every so often, fidgeting, fluffing it out. Steve wondered what that material felt like. His own tunic was soft, but it didn’t flow the same way her dress did.

“There is not much time,” Saetta continued, her expression focused. “Let us see how you will escort her, Captain.”

Steve held out his arm, and Elle walked over and gently laid her hand in the crook of his elbow. A bell sounded, and Saetta sighed. 

“It would not do for you to be late to the feast. Just remember to stand straight, watch out for the skirt, and…” she trailed off, looking at both of them severely. “Humans should not partake of the mead.”

“Got it,” Steve nodded, wondering if Asgardian alcohol would be enough to get him drunk. Gerimond walked over and held the door open for them, and they exited into the hallway, Elle still holding his arm.

“Practice walking together as we make our way to the feasting hall,” Saetta directed, walking behind them. Gerimond led, and the group made their way through empty halls with Saetta murmuring instructions behind them.

“Smaller steps Captain. Shoulders straight, Lady. Smile at each other. Talk.”

“But we want to hear what you’re telling us,” Eleanore said over her shoulder.

“Don’t look back!” Saetta exclaimed in a whisper. Elle’s hand gripped his arm harder, and Steve saw her trying not to laugh.

As the descended, the hallways became more crowded, and they attracted more attention from the people around them. Saetta mercifully stopped yelling at them, and Steve tried to keep his pace slow enough that Elle could keep up in her skirt. Other couples were walking hand-in-arm like they were, and that made Steve feel less awkward about it. He’d never escorted a lady before, because his pre-serum body had not attracted them, and his post-serum body was too busy showgirling and fighting. He’d always imagined leading Peggy onto a dance floor, but he hoped there wouldn’t be any dancing tonight. That train of thought left him subdued, and he relaxed his face so he wouldn’t frown.

The traffic started turning in a different direction, but they kept following Gerimond as he led them to a small door near a large, open room where many tables full of food were set up.

“You will enter from here, as guests of the King and Queen.” Saetta gave them one final order before shutting them inside a small room lit only by torches.

“So they’ll announce us?” Elle asked no one, and Steve shrugged. “Here, my hand is getting sweaty.” She let go of his arm and stretched her hand out, waving it in the air. “How are you feeling?”

“Can’t you tell?” he asked her, not wanting to get into a discussion of his emotions at the moment.

“Yeah, so I wondered why.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He knew he was dismissing her, but he needed to save his energy for dealing with whoever they had to meet in the next room.  Why did I volunteer for this?

“I’m feeling guilty for leaving Charlie with Brogan for so long,” Eleanore said, startling him out of his reverie. She continued without looking at him, only moving to take his arm again. “I wonder how he likes the apartment. I wonder if I can teach him to walk on a leash? I should de-worm him and get him neutered. Harsh,” she smiled up at Steve, and he tried to return a grin, “but then he won’t spray if he smells a female cat. You should meet Brogan, he’d shock you.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a shocking person. Biochemistry, like I said, but when he’s not quietly studying he’s insulting me and calling me— well, you’re just have to see.”

Steve heard Odin’s voice through the door,  … and our esteemed visitors from Earth.

“Time to go,” he murmured, stepping forward and pulling Elle along with him. She hadn’t heard the announcement, so she looked around in confusion until the doors opened in front of them and they were greeted with cheers, yelling, and the pounding of mugs onto various tables.

Steve felt his expression and his body freeze in place. He hated loud noises. The fighting he could handle, because that’s when he could ignore it, but they wanted him to  smile at all these people throwing food around and staring at him, yelling, sounding exactly like a battle, and there was a weight on his arm tugging him back to reality.

“Look at me,” Elle said, her voice loud to carry over the racket. “Just wave. I’ll smile, you wave. Teamwork, Steve. Don’t let me down.”

That was enough to bring him around, and she knew it. He wouldn’t let her down. He nodded and waved at the people, bringing his arm up mechanically and trying to do something about his face. They walked down the aisle in front of them toward where the king and Queen were seated, Thor off the the side. Steve glanced at Eleanore halfway through, and found her smiling naturally and meeting as many people’s eyes as she could. They loved her, too, calling out about how beautiful Midgard’s women were.

“Bow,” Elle ordered him, smiling to disguise her words as they reached the royal table. She let go of his arm and they knelt together, her in a graceful curtsy, him with a hand over his heart as he’d seen the guards and the servants do for Thor.

After that, things blurred together. Steve remembered being seated away from Eleanore, and surrounded by men who kept asking him questions and shoving more mead in front of him. Steve did try it and found that it gave him the warm buzz that Earth’s alcohol couldn’t achieve. Thor was there, yelling some of his answers for him, commanding some of the attention, but for the most part Steve was on his own. He focused on eating when the people around him allowed it, washing down bites of food with the mead, and then he asked questions of them, receiving stories of Thor’s youth that made the table shake with laughter. The sun was gone the next time Steve thought to look for it, and the room grew louder and louder as the hour grew later. No one asked about Loki, of that Steve was sure, but they all kept eyeing him and Thor curiously. That could have been because he was not socializing very well. He wished Elle was there to help put a damper on their curiosity because there were only so many times he could turn the conversation away from himself without seeming rude, and only so many things he even knew about the 21st century on Earth in answer to their questions.

His mind growing fuzzy, Steve tried another sip of mead to see if that would take the edge off. It didn’t, and he only felt worse because now he was mostly drunk and representing his planet badly. Thor was gone, and he was surrounded by people he didn’t know, a sea of changing faces, all men, who wanted to meet Thor’s new shield-brother in person. He stopped greeting them back, focusing completely on making his face friendly, and they just sort of talked at him for a moment before moving on.

A light tap on his arm brought his head around to Eleanore’s face, and more men came up to greet her, apparently enchanted by her Midgardian status. 

“I’m sorry gentlemen, but I’m tired. Captain Rogers, will you escort me back to my room?”

Steve stood immediately and held out his arm, trying to walk steadily as his head spun from the mead. Elle held onto his arm, and he used her presence as support, getting through the doors and into the open hallway before taking a huge gulp of air.

“Do you know how to get back to our rooms?” Elle asked him. 

“Up the stairs, right hall, left hall, three flights, right hall, there.” Steve answered automatically, thankful his spatial memory was at least serving him.

“Okay,” Eleanore was quiet as they passed more people, not reaching an empty space until they were in the hallway to their rooms.

By the time they got there, Steve was feeling better. The lack of yelling and the rhythm of their footsteps ordered his thoughts and brought him back from wherever he’d been. He looked at Eleanore— hair slightly frizzed, dress rumpled and stained from some liquid, weary— and felt guilty for not holding up his end of the teamwork.

“Don’t,” Elle said as they reached their doors. Steve didn’t reply, knowing what she meant. She opened his door and walked in with him, leading him to the desk chair where he sat with a sigh.

“Steve, look at me,” she ordered him, and he complied immediately, raising his head and meeting her gaze. He felt sweaty and chilled at the same time. She sighed, “How much mead did you drink?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, the cups all blurring together as the stream of faces ran past.

“Steve—” she cut herself off, walking into the bathroom instead of finishing her statement. Steve heard the door close and water running, and then she was back, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. He only felt more guilty because she was taking care of him and he was letting her down.

“I’m fine,” he protested, brushing her hand away.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you don’t tell me what to do,” she sounded angry, and he looked up again. She wasn’t angry, not visibly. Frustrated, maybe. He wasn’t good at reading emotions.

“No one’s used my middle name since my mom died,” he informed her, not intimidated. 

“Then it’s about time someone did, old man.” She pressed the cloth to his face again, and he let her, feeling more sick by the minute. He thought about the few times he’d been drunk before the serum. A sweaty, vomiting haze that ended when he woke up to Bucky barging into his apartment and taking him out to breakfast.

“Move,” Steve hastily pushed Eleanore aside and ran to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet and puking like a kid with the flu. All the food he’d eaten at the feast only made it worse, and he only felt his stomach clench tighter as more kept coming. 

He expected and hoped that Eleanore would stay away, maybe even return to her own room, when he began to vomit. Instead, he felt a hand on his back rubbing in circles. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t even push her away because he was heaving so forcefully. She didn’t say anything, but she did place the cloth on his neck. His body heated it up so quickly that she replaced it three times before he was finally done.

Steve wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and his hand on the dry cloth she gave to him. He sighed, not wanting to turn around and face her, his head very much cleared from the fog of alcohol and people. 

“I should have gotten you out of there sooner,” she spoke from behind him, her tone quiet. 

“It’s not your job—” he began to retort, then remembered that that was exactly her job. She was meant to watch him and make sure he didn’t pull any stupid stunts. Before, he’d thought he didn’t need her for that, but apparently he was wrong.

“There were so many people,” Elle continued, and Steve turned around to look at her. She was seated on a bench near the tub about two feet away from him. “I should have been rude.”

“No,” he said decidedly, “one of us had to show a good face.”

Eleanore looked up at him and laughed suddenly, losing herself in giggles. “I— oh god, Steve— I almost punched a guy.”

“What? Why?” he stood and was pleased to find his legs weren’t too shaky.

Elle remained seated, still laughing. “He wanted me to ‘give him the pleasure of my company’ in his room.” She chortled and almost snorted. Steve didn’t find that funny, not when she’d been surrounded by strangers. 

“How did you get out of it?”

“He was one of Thor’s friends, I think. Blond. Pretty boy. I told him I didn’t want my first night on Asgard to be a disappointment.”

“Ha—” Steve laughed involuntarily and stood next to Elle, sharing the moment of humor gratefully. He hadn’t really laughed since before Bucky had died. It felt good, even if he knew it wouldn’t last.

“Come on,” she stood and beckoned him out of the bathroom. He rinsed his mouth out at the sink and followed her. “Here, let me see your eyes.” He sat again in the desk chair and she bent over him, a hand on his chin. “Yep, burst blood vessels. Hold still.” Steve felt the tingly warmth of her healing spread from his chin to under his eyes, then his stomach. His mind cleared the rest of the way as the last of the alcohol left his system.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he didn’t push her away, but he thought he deserved the possible hangover.

“It’s not a problem,” Eleanore said, and froze at a knock on the door. “You get it, this is your room,” she whispered.

Steve stood, considering the implications of being discovered in his room together, even if they were still dressed. She followed him to the door, staying well hidden behind his body as he opened it.

“Captain,” Queen Frigga greeted him. “Lady Eleanore is here, is she not?”

“Yeah,” Elle stepped from behind Steve. “Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to speak with both of you.” Frigga motioned at the door, “May I?”

“Of course,” Steve stepped back, and Eleanore showed the Queen into his bedroom. He shut the door behind her and turned as she stopped in the center of the room. 

“What I have to ask of you is no small favor.” Frigga sighed, and Steve was reminded of Eleanore’s direct way of speaking for a moment. “But first… Did you mean what you said before about my son?”

“Yes,” Elle approached the Queen, coming to rest about four feet away from her. Steve went and stood beside his friend.

“This is… You have no idea what your hopes mean to me,” Frigga placed a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. “Captain, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged. He hadn’t promised to answer it.

“Have you experienced this ‘psychology’ before?” Frigga looked at him and Steve frowned. 

“Yes,” there was no shame in it.

“And who was your healer?”

“Why?” Steve wanted to protect Eleanore. She hadn’t let on that she was helping him, and he didn’t know why. He looked at her and she nodded her assent. “Elle— Lady Eleanore works with me. Introducing me to the new world.” He wondered if Thor had told his story.

“Is she… capable?” the Queen was still looking at him. 

Steve got annoyed with the Queen ignoring the woman right next to him. “She’s more than capable of taking care of me and speaking for herself.”

“I’m sorry,” Frigga nodded to Elle, who shrugged. “I wanted to hear it from someone other than her— you, Lady Eleanore.”

“Why are you asking?” Steve asked after Elle had remained silent for a moment. She looked like she was planning something.

“I have been speaking with my husband,” Frigga began. “We agreed that his measures of punishment have only ever worked with our eldest son Thor. Loki takes something different, and we decided that I would decide his fate after this latest skirmish with Earth.” The Queen of Asgard looked nervously between the two mortals. “I would ask you to heal him, Lady Eleanore, as you have healed Captain Rogers.”

“Wait, what?” Steve tried to catch his mind up to the request, picturing himself versus Loki in comparison to Eleanore. Sure, she could hold Thor off, but he was purely muscle. Loki was magic. “He’s too powerful.”

“Capable of speaking for myself, Steve,” Elle reminded him quietly. “But how would I, you know, not be killed in the first minute?”

“There are spells available to bind my son to you. They are… slavery spells.” Frigga seemed so hesitant to voice the word, and Steve understood why. “But they can be modified to fit the situation. I promise Loki would not be able to hurt you, or your loved ones.”

“This is kind of sudden,” Eleanore looked up at Steve, then back to the Queen. “I mean, how am I supposed to say yes? I don’t know for sure that I can even help. I don’t know the first place to start.”

“You do,” Frigga corrected her, staring at the girl steadily.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do.” Elle rolled her eyes, and Steve’s widened.  How fast does she plan this stuff? “But it’s nothing flashy. It’s not punishment in the traditional sense.”

“That is, I think, the most valuable part,” Frigga stated. “But I am afraid you do need to decide soon. Asgard was lenient upon Thor’s first day at home, but tomorrow they will expect some news regarding Loki.”

“How will I explain this to the people on Earth?” Elle asked, and Steve winced. She’d already accepted the challenge.

“You may decide that for yourself, but Asgard will support you,” Frigga promised her. “I can also meet with your leader to discuss these terms.”

“Steve’s kind of the leader,” Elle looked to him. “What do you think?”

He couldn’t just deny what she’d already accepted. And if she was right about Loki, he knew she could help. He felt her certainty and wanted to trust her, but this put the entire world at risk. Loki could escape before she’d even spoken to him and wreak a whole new brand of havoc on any city anywhere.  He could do that just as well on from Asgard. Steve remembered Thor’s story of Loki using their bridge to blow up a planet. “Elle…” he looked into her eyes and knew that she really wanted to do this, and that she really could. “I’ll help however I can.” At least this way he could keep an eye on both of them. God only knew how they’d explain it, though.

“Seriously? Thank you so much, Steve.” Elle was growing enthusiastic already. Now that he knew what to look for, Steve could see plans taking shape in her mind as she turned to face Frigga. Eyes alight, energy high, chewing the inside of her cheek, her brain was running wild. “Darren’s already for this— well— he’s for healing Loki instead of punishing him. He’s been here before, did you know that?” Steve wondered when that had happened, then decided to ask later.

“I recognized him when Heimdall showed us Loki in your custody,” Frigga nodded.

“So that’s one more in favor. Tony will pitch a fit, then invent so much stuff to help. Bruce… I have no idea, but he seems understanding. Natasha and Clint are the issue, and dangerous ones at that.”

Steve knew she was thinking through the members of their new team, but he wanted to remind her of a huge obstacle. “Fury.”

“Yeah, you might want to come explain it to everyone so I don’t get thrown in jail,” Eleanore told Frigga, who grinned slightly. 

“I will accompany you back on the morrow.”

“Is there any way to send a message to Earth ahead of time?” Steve thought that warning them might help soften the blow.

“Unfortunately, no,” Frigga apologized through her tone. “But you two should rest. Is there anything you require? I can have the servants bring you water, perhaps.”

“Water would be great,” Elle nodded. It sure sounded great to Steve, whose throat still hurt from throwing up.

“Rest easy, then,” Frigga headed for the door. Steve stepped around to open it for her and she smiled at him and Eleanore in turn. “Thank you both for giving me a reason to hope.”

They were left in silence after the door closed. Steve wondered what time it was, and how close to dawn. Eleanore yawned, and he looked at her.

“Sorry, I’m pretty tired.” She shrugged, “Dealing with crowds people is not my cup of tea either.”

Again, Steve felt a pang of guilt as he realized he hadn’t even tried to look for her. He was so overwhelmed with Thor by his side. 

“Stop it,” Elle said sternly, the tone drawing Steve’s attention. “You don’t have to guilt yourself about everything.”

“I should have come and found you,” Steve protested plainly. “Then I wouldn’t have gotten drunk, and we could have faced them together.”

“It would still have sucked,” she shook her head. “And maybe I’d have gotten drunk instead.”

 

“You should definitely not drink that mead,” Steve cautioned her. “It would get to you after a sip.”

“Then you don’t do that again either,” Elle looked him in the eyes. “Promise me, Steve.”

“Why not? Other people get drunk.” He didn’t want to give up the possibility now that he’d found it.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?” There was a knock on the door. Steve answered it and took a tray with two glasses on it from a quiet servant with thanks.

“Because you’re better than that, and you know it.” She looked into his eyes as he turned back, tray in hand, and he saw  fear . “I mean, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think you could get drunk. Were you going to get alcohol poisoning here, on a planet where that doesn’t happen? Were you going to collapse in a room full of stomping drunk people?”

“I’m sorry,” and he was, far more sorry than guilty. He held out his hand for her to shake, and she took it. “I promise. Never again.”

“We need to talk more, too,” Elle wasn’t letting up just because he’d agreed to one thing. She took a drink from one of the cups. “I know you’re struggling. Remember that I’m supposed to help you, okay? You can tell me things. I can handle it.”

“I don’t always say everything I’m thinking,” Steve quoted her from earlier, and she smiled. “And besides, you’re going to have your hands full from now on.”

“You make it sound like I’m having a kid,” she chuckled. “We’ll both be busy, but you’re still a priority. Okay?” she yawned again.

Steve nodded to appease her, thinking that she would be so strained watching Loki that she’d forget about him for the most part, except possibly as a teammate and neighbor. “We should get to sleep.”

“You’re right,” Elle sighed. “But I think my brain is going too fast. Will you be able to sleep?”

“I’m going to try,” Steve said truthfully. “We’re both going to need to be awake for tomorrow.”

“Okay, goodnight.” She headed for the door, easy as that. “Hey, how much do you like writing?”

“I never hated it.” He wondered where this was coming from.

“When we get home, I’m going to have both of us start a dream journal. It should help sort out what we’re dealing with. We can compare notes, but you don’t have to tell me everything.”

“We’ll see how that goes.” Steve was not enthused about the idea, but he would at least try it out. Especially if she would be doing one as well. They might actually help each other for a change, instead of her constantly giving and him taking.

“Goodnight for real,” Eleanore opened the door and smiled back.

“Night.” She stepped out and shut the door, leaving Steve alone in the nighttime quiet full of breezes from the windows, the curtains wavering in the torchlight. He took off his pants first, the leather uncomfortable as it rubbed against all the wrong places. He looked around for a way to dim the lights, then abandoned them with a sigh. He stripped his tunic and hung both garments from the chair, pulling sweats from his bag and crawling under the blankets bare-chested. The torches put themselves out, only one in the bathroom remaining alight to provide some visibility. Steve thought, with all the events of the day, he’d have trouble falling asleep, but within moments he caught himself drifting. He made sure to think of something good before falling truly asleep, and the image of Eleanore turning down the man who’d advanced on her earlier sent him to his dreams with a smile.

 

 

 


	6. Prison Cell

No one came. Not Odin, not Thor, not even Frigga, who Loki had been sure still harbored some affection for him somehow. No guards walked by his cell, and the others around it were empty. Food appeared on the table, and disappeared when it grew stale, the water and juice refilling of their own accord. Loki broke down and ate after a while when his favorite berries appeared along with the meal he’d consumed for his last nameday celebration. If Frigga was watching, this would soften her heart.

The air was so quiet, only the faint press of his feet, his own breathing, the whisper of turning pages marked the passing time. At first it was restful. Loki allowed himself to sleep and wake naturally, reading and eating in between naps and recovering from his wounds little by little. Not everything had been healed, not even close, only the barest of minimums had been attempted at taking the pain away. His head still ached constantly, his leg still felt uncommonly weak, and the muscles in his back would convulse from time to time, not fooled into thinking the damaged bones there had healed. 

He waited, counting the number of meals to keep track of the time. One hour, three, five. He read, then left the books because they did not hold his interest. He walked the perimeter of the room, listing spells in his mind, then abandoned that pursuit as it brought up painful memories both of Thanos and of his — of Frigga— teaching him. He meditated, but could not hold his thoughts in place. He imagined the royal family greeting their eldest son and his friends with a feast, and even that seemed insignificant in the face of his strategic defeat.

He was bored with failure.

Sighing, Loki returned to his bed where he managed to drift into a light slumber. Peaceful quiet reigned in his tiny, powerless kingdom, until he found himself launching out of bed in terror, sweating through his tunic and looking around to fend off the terrors of a dream he could not remember. His leg ached at the sudden abuse, and he felt the muscles in his back spasm over the fractured bones. After that, he stayed awake and away from the bed.

Nothing could hold his mind steady for long, and often Loki would stop in the middle of an activity, struggling to remember why he had started it. Reading was difficult when one could not remember the pages before the current one. Eating seemed pointless, and yet so necessary when he could not recall the last time he’d tasted food. Anxiety, easy to fend off when distracted, was a constant, prowling monster hovering on the edge of his vision.

He took to staring at the white wall, because it required no concentration, and it saved him from having to act sane. Anyone watching him would think he was contemplating his escape, which would have been true under any other circumstance. As it was, however, the only thing he could concentrate on was the list of people and planets upon whom he wished the slowest and most painful of deaths.

First there was Jotunheim. Even thinking of those blue-skinned monsters caused his breath quicken, his stomach to knot, his fists to clench with impotent rage. The traitors did not deserve another day to live, and yet he knew Odin would be helping them repair their planet in every way possible to preserve the Nine Realms in his warped image of perfection. Loki began to plot his revenge, but his mind trailed to those who sought revenge on him. Thanos had thousands of years left to exact retribution from Loki, and Loki had just as much time to cower and hide his true self, a shadow of the prince he once was. Perhaps Odin would have him executed and he could be done with this meaningless charade.

Loki shook his head, trying to clear the various images of his possible demise from his mind. He shifted so his back was to the wall and leaned on it, staring through the yellow magic to the hallway beyond.

Then there was Midgard and its arrogant warriors, two of whom were flitting around Asgard as he sat rotting in a cell. He’d wanted them to win that battle, but his humiliation at their hands was real. That green beast, the simplest of all of them, had left him at their mercy as he struggled to move through the new injuries and the old pains they had awakened. He would revisit Earth as soon as possible to show them all a similar indignity. Thor’s mortal woman would be first, and he would kill her quickly, as she was of little consequence, other than having helped Thor regain his powers. The green monster was next, and Loki knew that he would take some planning. Banner’s suffering was just as important, perhaps more, as his eventual death. Loki knew that the man could be killed, but the beast protected him through energy not unlike the crudest form of magic. Creating an unbreakable cage that harnessed the beast’s own energy would solve the problem of containment, and there was the possibility of Loki locking the Starks inside it as well, letting the monster kill them, or watching them slowly die together.

“Loki.” With a shifting of energy, Thor’s form appeared inside the cell. It was an illusion, that was clear enough, but the consciousness controlling the illusion was genuine.

Loki remained seated, preparing himself for a test of his self-control. Thor was predictable, bull-headed, and foolishly innocent. He still thought Loki could be  saved . 

“Have you no guests to entertain?” The nonchalant act usually wore Thor down more quickly than anything. He wanted a reaction. Loki wanted him to leave.

“They slumber,” Thor explained dryly. “And it is them I wish to discuss.”

“Oh?” Loki raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity. “You are a man now, Thor, you may choose friends other than the band of ruffians with whom you terrorize the Nine. Just because you choose  another band of ruffians—”

“Lady Eleanore stated that you are under the influence of mind control.” Thor interrupted him, scowling. 

Loki fell silent, feeling his ire rise. 

“She said you need healing of the mind, as they have on Midgard,” Thor continued, looking deep into Loki’s eyes. “She and the Captain think you need this healing instead of punishment. Father fought them over it, but it seems to have given Mother hope.” The God of Thunder shook his head, turning his eyes away for a moment. “I know not what to believe.”

Loki was almost beyond sight, so red had his vision become. Instead, he focused on picturing that whore’s demise with his mind, of eviscerating her while the Captain and her young lover looked on. Their torture would add to her own, and he would feed ghastly images into her mind, making her hope before tearing it away with another bout of torture. Keeping her alive, screaming, begging for mercy, listening to their pleas and slowly, finally, granting her the audience with Death that she would so desire.

“Loki, look at me,” Thor commanded. “Is this true?”

Loki met his eyes once more, and rose with a snarl. “Your friends think to know my mind? That wench presumes to heal  my mind? Tell her to come and have a try.”

“And what will you do if she does?” Apparently Thor was not taking the hint, and this stirred Loki’s agitation to greater heights.

“I will  ruin her. Better than her death, I will steal her hope, her belief. I will leave her a haunted shell, and when she screams for mercy I will send her back to your merry band, a reminder for those who would pity me.” Loki’s new plan was even more appealing, as it hurt all of Earth’s heroes at once.

Thor was staring at him, a mixture of shock and pain on his face. “Do you mean that, Brother?”

“I am  not your brother.” Loki was screaming, and the noise of his own voice fueled him further. “Did they not tell you what I am? The monster, the stolen relic! My life before I knew was a lie, and after a pathetic attempt for glory.” Spittle was flying from his lips, and he was so close the Thor’s illusion he could feel the energy waving off of it. Suddenly, the image solidified, and the real Thor was shaking him.

“Loki, awaken from this childish tantrum!” Thor shook him again, and Loki used all of his strength to throw his arms away. He was sweating, his heart was racing, and his anger only continued to grow. He lashed out at Thor, only to have the man disappear in a soundless pulse, leaving Loki fuming and full of impotent rage.

Looking around for something to take his anger out on, Loki’s eyes fell upon the mattress that had produced such foul dreams, robbing him of sleep. He ripped the blankets first, one by one, into shreds, then the cushions, covering the floor with feathers. The mattress itself was next, and Loki took his time, tossing it across the room, tearing into the bed frame itself and using the broken pieces to stab and gore the padded form, pretending it was any number of his enemies falling beneath his daggers.

A sharp twinge of pain suddenly echoed from his back to his right leg. Loki ignored it, standing to take on the chair and the food-laden table when his leg gave from beneath him and he fell to his knees with a shout. The pain cleared his head somewhat, and he gazed around at the Thor-quality destruction he had wreaked upon the room.

They were watching. His mind reminded him, and he felt embarrassed to have been set off so easily. Always before, he’d kept his anger for necessity, using it to block out his other emotions when watching Thor’s back, killing some creature that had offended the Thunder God. Protecting him when he took on more than he could handle.

That line of thinking made the rage resurface, so Loki shook it from himself with a sigh. Every movement he made sent feathers drifting into the air, and made his leg and back throb. The witch had not done a thorough job of healing him, and Loki suspected that he’d reopened some of the more fragile injuries in his frenzy.

Trying to preserve whatever dignity he had left, he made his way back through the feathers, around the broken furniture, to the chair, where he sat and picked up a book, one of his old favorites, hoping it would draw him in as it used to do. He sat reclined in the chair, stretching his leg out for comfort and resting the least painful part of his back against the wooden frame. After smoothing his hair, a sip of ale, and a bite of food, he was ready to continue the charade of normality. Even the semblance of sanity was better than that Midgardian whore thinking he needed healing of the mind. 


	7. Home Again

Steve woke to the palest light of dawn making its way through his windows. He rose and stretched, grateful for the lack of dreams he’d had the night before. He checked his watch.  Five whole hours of sleep.  It had been four AM Earth time when he’d gone to bed, and it was nine AM there now. Maybe talking did help. In any case, he felt fully awake and ready to face the harrowing day ahead. He looked around, then fell and started doing push ups as a simple form of exercise, moving as fast as gravity would allow in order to get his muscles warmed up. He didn’t know what time Asgardians normally woke, but if the party the night before had been any indication, they were night owls and late risers.

From regular push ups, he transitioned into handstand ones, one-handed, which forced him to focus on balance as well. It still wasn’t much of a challenge, but he doubted there were regular workout facilities here and he didn’t want to bother anyone. Besides, this way he could stay around and keep up on the happenings as he and Eleanore planned with Frigga to take Loki back to Earth.

Leg muscles came next, and Steve picked up the heavy desk chair and held it over his head as he performed one-legged squats, followed by squatting jumps. He’d never yet gotten over how fast he could run, and he was always pushing himself to see if he could beat his record time. To make sure he would never be too late to help someone when they needed him. He shook off the depressing thoughts that came after that, and focused instead on perfecting his form.

Footsteps outside his door, followed by a short knock, announced Gerimond, who entered bearing a tray with food and water.

“Sir— Steve, I did not know you were awake,” he greeted Steve with surprise, his eyes carefully expressionless as they took in Steve’s sweaty, shirtless form abusing the furniture. “My Queen asked that I prepare you for the day ahead.”

“Is there a time limit on this?” Steve asked, already moving toward the tray that Gerimond set at the desk. He set the chair down and began eating something that tasted like sausage on Earth, accompanied by strange fruit and scrambled eggs.

“The Queen has requested an audience with you and Lady Eleanore an hour or so from now,” Gerimond poured a glass of water from the pitcher.  So much for late-risers. “She will be meeting with you in her study off the throne room. I will lead you there when you are prepared.”

“Thanks,” Steve was already almost done with the food, hungry after throwing up his meal the night before. He was thankful now that Elle had made him avoid the possible hangover. He needed to respect his body; it was a blessing, not a toy.

“Shall I run a bath?” Gerimond walked to the bathroom without needing an answer, and Steve heard the water running. He stood and followed the manservant, smelling some sort of woodsy scent emitting from the door as he entered.

“If you please, si-Steve—” Gerimond gestured to the already full, large tub, and Steve bit back a sigh.  What is it with this guy wanting me to strip? He knew it was probably normal here, but he really didn’t want to follow that custom.

“Uh, thanks,” he started, trying not to insult the man’s culture. “But could you just show me how to use all this stuff?” he surveyed the various decorative pots that lined the wall next to the tub. “I’d prefer to bathe myself.”

Gerimond nodded, and Steve wondered if anyone had warned the poor guy about the needy Earthling who messed up the simplest routines. “These are the soaps, and there are oils for your hair. These are scrubbing pads, and the towels are located in this cupboard. The combs and such are located here above the wash basin. Please let me know if you require any assistance.” Gerimond bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

As he slid out of his clothing and into the bath, Steve wondered if Elle had fought the system or let Saetta do her job as she wanted to. He couldn’t imagine either one of those ladies really backing down if they thought something was necessary, although he’d put his money on Eleanore most days. 

He took his time bathing, to make sure he chose the right mixtures. Like on Earth, the soap bubbled when it hit water, but the scrubbing pads took some skin off if he used them too harshly. He stayed away from the oil, never having used anything similar before and not knowing what they would actually do. The soap smelled great, musky and masculine, like whatever Gerimond had put into the bath water. 

Drying himself, Steve found, took less than one towel, as they were made from super-absorbent material that drew the water right from his skin and hair. After he’d run a comb through his hair Steve put his sweats back on and transitioned out of the bathroom, planning on wearing his own clothes that he’d packed on the helicarrier.

Gerimond was standing next to his bed once again, and had actually placed his bag on the freshly-arranged covers. Steve pulled out his plaid shirt, slacks, underwear, and socks, and Gerimond turned his back without a word. It made Steve feel like a prude, but he dressed quickly and the ordeal was over in no time. 

“Thanks,” Steve was grateful that the man seemed to understand his need for privacy. 

“My pleasure, Steve,” was the stately reply. “Shall I lead you to the meeting?”

“Sure,” Steve followed him to the door. “Is Saetta taking Lady Eleanore?”

“The Lady is already speaking with the Queen.” Steve’s back straightened in surprise. “She sent for you while you were in the bath,” Gerimond explained, looking over his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Steve wasn’t too concerned, if Elle was only meeting with Frigga. It was Odin they had to worry about, somewhat, and Frigga had said he was in agreement with her on Loki’s fate.

The trip to the throne room took them back past the feasting hall, toward the front of the palace. There was a garden off to the side of one of the open, ground floor halls, and Steve recognized the scent of roses wafting among the other flowers. It was sort of comforting to know that the classical, familiar flower was also alive and well on such a different world. 

The roses reminded him of a bombed-out farm house in France that he and his men had used for one night while out on a mission. The house itself was just a shaky roof on some crumbling walls, but the garden behind it was completely intact and full of red summer roses. As Steve had stood watch that night, the flowers had kept him company, reminding him of Peggy.

“This is where I leave you,” Gerimond stopped them in front of some small, ornate metal doors, which were dwarfed by some huge panels to their left. Guards stood unblinking in front of both doorways, their helmets gleaming in the early morning light. “These doors will lead you into the waiting hall, where you will be announced to the Queen’s study.”

“Thanks for everything,” Steve told him, thinking this might be one of the last times he talked to the guy.

“It was my pleasure Steve,” Gerimond bowed to him, and Steve copied the motion, earning a slight grin from the taciturn man. “Farewell.”

“Goodbye,” Steve saluted him casually, out of habit, and turned to the door. One of the guards opened it for him, and he walked into a brightly-lit waiting room lined with softly cushioned chairs. Another two guards stood in front of another set of doors, and one nodded to Steve and walked through them, speaking in a low tone.

“My Queen, my Lady, the Captain has arrived.”

“Send him in,” Frigga’s voice ordered with calm authority.

The guard came back out and held the door open, and Steve walked through into pure daylight. This room had skylights with mirrors that reflected the sunlight down in filtered rays. Tapestries also hung on these white marble walls, like in the guest hallway, and only one small painting adorned the mantle. It was of the royal family, Loki included, all looking happier than Steve could imagine them.

There was a small sitting area in front of the fireplace, just like Odin’s study, and one next to the open windows that overlooked a garden, possibly the same one he’d noticed on the way there. Steve smelled the roses again, as the breeze moved through the room. Eleanore and Frigga sat near the windows together, looking through a black leather book held between them.

“Hey Steve,” Eleanore stood, also dressed for Earth. She wore the same dark blue jeans, a brown belt, and brown leather boots with a red shirt Steve had seen her in before. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy, curly bun, held in place by the dark-colored cloth bands that she always carried in her purse.

“Hi,” Steve greeted both of them with a wave of his hand, coming over to where they were standing. Frigga smiled up at him, her soft blue gown with gold accents shifting in the breeze.

“The Queen and I were discussing my living arrangements,” Elle helpfully caught him up. Frigga motioned for them to sit down, and Steve chose a seat across from the two women. “Loki’s going to sleep in the spare bedroom.”

“Sounds good,” Steve had assumed Eleanore had already planned that out, as she did so many other things. 

“And we were discussing the magic to be placed,” Frigga added, catching his eye with a serious expression. “I would like both of you to have a hold on Loki, in case something happens to one of you.”

“I can see the logic in that,” Steve nodded, “but if something happens to Elle, I’m afraid I won’t be a lot of help with whatever she’s going to do with Loki.”

“I understand,” Frigga smiled. “Loki will be taxed with protecting the both of you. It is as much for his protection as yours. He will also obey any orders from you that do not put him in harm’s way.”

“I don’t love that,” Elle spoke up. “It’ll make him resent us.”

“It will make him stay with us too,” Steve pointed out, and Frigga nodded agreement.

“If you do not wish do order him about, you certainly do not have to.” The Queen clasped her hands together, “After the first few rules are set in place, you should have an understanding.”

“Okay,” Eleanore was still not enthused about the idea, but Steve could tell she was already running ground rules through her mind, scoping out the most important and planning on how to implement them. Her eyes fell on the floor, and she frowned, lost in thought.

“Captain Rogers, have you any concerns to address?” Frigga asked, her tone understanding. 

Steve figured he’d better get them all out in the open now. “I know you said Loki would be ordered to protect us. Does that mean he can’t plot to get us killed?” It was a little harsh, and he saw Frigga’s eyes draw down in sadness.

“If one or both of you are killed, he will return to Asgard to serve a different sentence. One his father would choose,” she pursed her lips and continued, “It will be in his best interest to keep you alive and unharmed. Our Guardian, Heimdall, will also be watching you, both for your protection and Loki’s.”

Steve nodded, understanding that Frigga would be looking out for the safety of her son.

“Could you tell us what made Loki so angry in the first place?” Elle asked, her head jerking up with the sudden thought. “I mean, Thor said he was adopted, but is that something bad here? On Earth, it’s considered fine.”

“Loki was… more than adopted,” Frigga started hesitantly. “I am not sure his full history should be given, as you said, in the interest of his privacy. He may tell you, especially if you order him to. ”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Elle protested, looking disgusted. “But I might ask him about it.”

“As you choose,” Frigga seemed relieved. Steve wondered what the story was, and hoped Elle would have him around to hear it. Loki could get angry explaining it, and she couldn’t take him on alone, spell or no spell. “As for our part, his father and I do love him as our own, and Thor loves him as his brother. Odin has simply never done very well at showing it.”

“So when are we headed back to Earth?” Steve asked, trying to get a series of events clear in his mind.

“The guards are retrieving Loki as we speak, and my husband and Thor are on their way to the throne room,” Frigga motioned to a single door in the wall behind Steve that was comparatively plain. “We will assemble the court and read Loki’s sentence to all of Asgard. It should take no more than an hour or so.”

“It will be mid-afternoon when we get back to Earth,” Eleanore cited the time difference, and Steve nodded. “That’s going to be such major jet lag.” He wondered if she’d slept well. She looked tired, but it was hidden quite a bit by the daylight and by her makeup. 

“We should open this door,” Frigga stood to do so, but Steve rose and walked ahead of her, looking back to make sure he had the correct panel. She nodded at him, and he propped it open with a block set on the floor. “Thank you Captain. Now we may hear when we are needed in the court room, and we can speak freely here. There is a sound-blocking spell on the door.

Sure enough, Steve heard the pattering of feet and the murmurs of a gathering crowd. He wasn’t as worried about facing these people. He didn’t have problems when he was detached from the chaos of a crowded room, like when he gave a speech or received an award. It was one-on-several-hundred situations that had always left him feeling overwhelmed. It had gotten worse since he’d woken from the ice. 

“So how are we going to clear this with everyone back on Earth?” Elle asked as Steve sat back down. 

“As I said, I will travel with you and explain the situation.” Frigga was calm, but she had never met Fury or an angry Tony Stark. “We will, of course, provide support for Earth and for Loki while he is among you. It will strengthen our two world’s bond.”

“Sure, sure,” Elle waved her hand. “But they’re going to be angry, and it will only get worse if I try to calm them down.”

Steve nodded, “They’re going to have weapons trained on us, too, depending on where we land. They could think Loki’s got  us mind controlled.”

“I was thinking of having Heimdall direct us to your living quarters,” Frigga spoke to Eleanore. “If that would be agreeable to you.”

“Um, sure. But it’s going to be a mess. Brogan— my friend— is watching my apartment while I’m gone, and he is  not a tidy person.” Elle sounded more stressed than she ever had on Asgard as she thought of her normally clean apartment. Steve hid a grin. 

“You could wait in my apartment while Elle cleans up,” he suggested, and Eleanore’s face lit up. She mouthed  Thank you at him, and he did grin at that.

“Whatever is best for you both,” Frigga agreed, smiling at their conspiracy. 

Sound was picking up from the throne room. There were people speaking over each other, all excited and all talking about witnessing the punishment of the youngest son. Steve looked at Frigga, whose face was tense as she heard her subjects calling her son the ‘traitor prince.’

“They cannot see the door,” she said in response to Steve’s questioning glance. 

Steve heard more and worse names for Loki coming through the hidden opening, including talk about his adoption and speculation on his heritage. Frigga’s face kept falling. Steve understood suddenly why she didn’t want to try healing Loki mentally on Asgard. If everyone thought of him like this, it would just be futile, and likely make his problems worse.

“Have they always been like this?” Elle asked, drawing Steve and Frigga from their intent listening.

“Thor has always been the favorite,” Frigga explained, raising her hands in a helpless gesture. “When he came back and defeated Loki, the people cheered not because they hated my younger son, but because Thor was the rightful heir to the throne in their eyes. They think Loki usurped him. This is not true, however, because I gave him Gungnir myself while the King was in the Odinsleep.” The Queen paused, taking in their clueless expressions. “My apologies, shall I explain?”

“Gungnir is a symbol, right? Probably a weapon?” Frigga nodded as Elle thought out loud. “And the Odinsleep is, I assume, when Odin sleeps. Probably for a long time. Like a recharge?” Steve nodded, as her reasoning made sense. He wondered if this was what Eleanore acted like in her college classes.

“Yes, that is the explanation I would give,” Frigga seemed mildly impressed, but she quickly hid it behind a smile. 

The noise quieted outside, and Steve heard the gigantic doors slam shut.

“That is our cue,” Frigga stood, and Eleanore and Steve followed her back into the open hallway.

“Mother,” Thor was there, and he held out his arm to escort the Queen. He nodded to his friends, seeming more grave than the day before.  Probably not the happiest time, sentencing your brother for murder.

Frigga was looking at them and Steve glanced at Elle before holding out his left arm. She took it, and they fell in line behind Thor and Frigga. Steve vowed to try and Stay near his teammate this round, so they could hold each other up.

“Thor and I will enter first, and you will follow as guests of honor,” Frigga explained. “There will be no announcement, simply wait for the doors to reopen.”

Everything was so staged here, Steve was glad he lived on Earth. At least only his Captain America life was in the spotlight there. For now.

The doors opened and thunderous applause and cheering erupted as Thor and Frigga entered. Steve felt himself tense up, and took a deep breath when they closed again, pleased to find that only a little noise made it through. He was not eager for their turn.

“Same as last night?” Elle squeezed his arm and he looked down at her.

“I might not wave. I’ll try the strong, silent look.” Steve shrugged, not wanting to egg the audience on and make them cheer louder. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a trial, not a feast.” She nodded, changing her expression to a neutral pride, her eyes widening, head held high.

The doors opened, and they were greeted by more polite, less aggressive applause as they stepped into the throne room together. The throne rose in front of them at the top of a pyramid of golden stairs, and Odin sat with Frigga and Thor standing on either side. Most of the room was gold, except for blue and burgundy banners, and the occasional green and red ones signifying, Steve guessed, the members of the royal family. The people were lined up on both sides of the aisle, their feet nearly touching the edges of the gray-gold design on the floor that led to the base of the dais.

It was a long walk through the wide room, but Steve kept his eyes pointed straight ahead, trying to figure out where they were supposed to stand. He could hear snatches of conversations about himself and Eleanore pretty clearly, as people speculated on their clothes, their hair, their looks.

“How do they tell the women apart from the men on Midgard?” one woman chortled, and Steve’s head ached to turn, to stare her down, but he didn’t. Elle didn’t act like she’d heard it at all.  Well, if you need a skirt to set you apart from the men…

There was an empty space on the left side of the base of the throne, and when Steve looked from it to Frigga, she nodded slightly. They came to rest there, next to the one woman warrior Thor must have described. She eyed them, then turned her attention back to the top of the stairs. Elle let go of his arm, but still stood close to him, with Steve between her and the throne. Steve could feel her glancing up occasionally, probably assessing his stress levels.

Steve felt fine, despite the quieting remarks around them. He looked out into the crowd and recognized a few faces from the night before, but he kept his eyes moving and a firm expression on his face.

A resounding  clang brought the audience to silence, and Steve looked up as Odin stood and walked to the edge of the platform.

“Bring in the prisoner,” was his sole command, and he sounded weary.

The big doors opened once more, and two guards escorted Loki inside, four more trailing behind them. Loki was in shackles just like the day before, but he didn’t wear the mask, his stoic, proud expression clear for everyone to see. The audience was completely quiet as he was walked to the base of the throne, but Steve knew they would be talking about him after they left, just as they had before.

Loki reached his destination, chains clinking loudly in the quiet, and the guards fanned out to form a line behind him, two standing directly beside him to hold the chains. Loki looked around, glancing over his family with disdain. His eyes lit up with anger and an evil-looking delight when he saw Steve and Eleanore. Steve had to stop himself from stepping between the demigod and his teammate, acting as a shield in case things got out of hand. He settled instead for watching the prisoner’s every move, and keeping his muscles tense. Ready for action.

“Loki Odinson,” Odin began, and Loki looked away from them to face his trial. “You have been brought before this court to answer for murderous crimes against Jotunheim, Asgard, and Midgard. You have maimed Jotunheim, possibly beyond repair, broken the Bifrost in your folly, and brought battle to Midgard from an army of savage beasts. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Loki looked around quickly, calculating, before settling on his father again. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.” The guy had what Hawkeye would call  balls . Steve tried not to use such language, but it was definitely applicable here.

“Do you really not see the gravity of your actions?” Odin looked down in apparent disappointment and severity. Steve had flashbacks about getting a lecture from his mom. “Everywhere you go there is ruin. Death.”

“I went to Midgard to rule as a benevolent god.” Loki looked defiantly up at his father, “Just like you.”

“We are not gods,” Odin protested. “We are born, we live, we die.”

Steve privately thought that Loki had pretty much described Odin as well, with his benevolent ruler jab. Ever since he and Elle had set foot on Asgard, they’d been treated as guests, but also as show pieces. When Elle had brought up her ideas the day before, she had been met with a patronizing attitude from the king. Odin wanted things to go his way, and any resistance was met with a wall of stubborn power.

“Give or take five thousand years,” came Loki’s rebuttal. 

“And your actions, your killing… all because you wanted a throne?” Odin sounded condescending again, and Steve saw something in Loki deflate. Elle moved minutely closer to Steve’s side, glancing up at him before looking back at the exchange.

“It was my birthright,” Loki confirmed, staring boldly up at Odin.

“Your birthright,” Odin shouted, making Elle and several other spectators jump, “was to die as a child, cast out.”  Holy crap, that’s harsh. And to his own son.  Steve saw Eleanore’s expression contained nearly slack-jawed shock. “If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.” 

Elle started to turn toward the throne, her mouth opening to shout something completely true and offensive, Steve was sure. He laid a hand on her arm and she looked up at him with undisguised rage and hurt, most likely for Loki, in her eyes. Steve tried to show through an expression that everything would be OK, that they would take Loki home to heal, and that she could complain about Odin to himself or Darren or both of them as much as she wanted when they were safely back on Earth. As much as he hated the cruelty Asgard’s king was displaying, Steve wasn’t going to risk a war over a family dispute. He wasn’t sure how much of that message was clear just from one look, but she settled back with a very quiet sigh and a tight-lipped frown.

“If I am for the ax, then for mercy’s sake, just… swing it.” Loki stepped forward, almost pleading.

“The ease of execution is not your fate,” Odin regarded him with something like victory. “Instead, you will pay for your crimes through service on Midgard.” The crowd shifted, but no voices were audible.

Loki looked only at Eleanore, and Steve could feel his rage seething through the air. Elle stared back at the demigod, raising an eyebrow as if to say,  Am I supposed to be intimidated? Steve liked her attitude, at least when it didn’t get them into trouble.

“A slave to mortals?” Loki asked, not looking away from Eleanore. “Are you not afraid for their safety? Sending wayward children to think their crimes through on Midgard is a tad…” he looked up at Odin, an impertinent expression making itself known, “overdone.”

“You will travel to Midgard with the Captain Rogers and Lady Eleanore,” Odin ignored him, standing and  thunking  his staff once more on the floor of the throne room. “Guards, escort the prisoner to my study to await further orders.”

Loki’s back straightened as he was led away, and he did not look back. Steve watched him go, sending up a silent prayer that he and Elle and whoever else wouldn’t be killed in their sleep in the near future. 

The courtiers dismissed themselves, milling into the hallway in whispering discussions. Frigga descended the steps on Thor’s arm, nodding to each warrior as she passed them with calm courtesy. 

“Captain, Lady, please follow us so we may send you home in peace.” It was Thor who spoke to them, his voice quieter and more gracious than Steve had ever heard him. He wondered how the Asgardian royalty would keep their queen’s trip to Earth a secret, then decided he really didn’t care as long as he could get off of this severe realm.

Steve sighed at the tasks still ahead of them for the day, glancing at his watch and noting it was only noon on Earth. There was still so much to accomplish, and so much still uncertain. Steve didn’t like suspense, not on something as important as this. Shaking his head quickly, he held out his arm to Elle for appearance’s sake, and they followed the queen and prince out into the late morning sunlight. 


	8. Midgard

This could not be true. Odin must be fronting this for some other sentence. Loki’s thoughts frenzied as hope and despair warred in his mind, each fighting with possibilities of life and death.

It had to be execution. Odin would say he was sending Loki to Midgard, then kill him as soon as they reached the study. Tell the populace he was on Midgard, then wait an adequate time to announce his untimely death at the hands of the mortals. It was a short, simple, brutal punishment wrapped in the gauze of mercy.

If he was truly to be sent to Midgard, Loki would escape in no time and carry out his cowering plan, hiding until he found a way to regain power and defeat Thanos once and for all. He would overcome Death’s Mate and take his place as the wielder of great power.

The study was nearby, so he had little time to analyze the plans floating and drifting through his mind without real direction. The possibilities were unknown as long as he did not know his true fate. Where once planning for both eventualities would have been exhilarating, it was now tiresome, heavy work, his mind drained and slow to cooperate. Loki realized this with a spike of anger as the guards assembled in front of the unlit fireplace.

Frigga, Thor, and the mortals entered a moment later, and they stood in an uncertain half circle around him. The mortals were looking from Frigga to him to each other, but they remained silent. The Captain placed himself slightly between the witch and Loki, and that caused Loki some amusement. As though the pitiful strength of a mortal, even the strongest one alive, could save her from his wrath. 

The woman gazed at him with something like understanding deep in her eyes. Loki wanted to rip them from their sockets to show just what he thought of her pity, her connection. Unlike in the throne room, all challenge was gone from her attitude, and she made no move to speak or approach him. From time to time, her eyes would unfocus and stare past him, and Loki knew she was reading his thoughts. He made them gruesome, imagining her death in every unpleasant way his centuries of life had taught him. She did not respond, watching him with the same quiet interest and infuriating concern.

Frigga and Thor stayed quiet as well, but their gazes never wavered from Loki. Thor was looking at him with anticipation, as though hope still lay in his heart waiting for either a warm sun to let it grow, or a cold breeze to chill it to nonexistence. In accordance with his hidden, monstrous nature, Loki planned for the cold. Frigga’s expression was the most familiar: love and sadness— he’d seen it many times before. When they were younger, Loki and Thor often got into mischief of the more troublesome variety. Very unbecoming of future kings. Odin would rail and rave, and Loki grew more used to the sound with every misdemeanor, but Frigga’s gaze of sadness always told him if he had truly disappointed her.

Even now, it was difficult to keep those memories at bay. Loki brought up his own suffering, his hundreds of years as a shadow, Odin’s critiques of him compared to Thor, and the censure of Thor’s friends. It helped him focus on something other than the faces in front of him, as painful, anger-filled images bled over his vision.

Odin finally entered after long moments of silence, walking to stand near Thor and Frigga, directly in front of Loki. 

“Step forward,” he commanded, and Loki did as he was asked, showing no hesitation or fear. He came to a clanking halt in front of Odin, within reach but distant enough to avoid intimacy.

Odin raised his arm, and Gungnir slammed into the floor, making the mortals jump. Loki felt magic crawling up his legs, through his feet, into his bones, and settling there with a hot glow of energy that his chains prevented him from accessing. He did not move or acknowledge it, declining to give Odin the pleasure of flustering him with Loki’s own weapon of choice.

“With these spells I bind you to the mortals you see here,” Odin began, and Loki’s heart sank with each word.  Do not look at them. Do not recoil.  “You will obey their every command. You will fight alongside them. You will not use magic against them or their brethren, unless they allow it. They hold the key to your freedom, and if they should fall, you will return to Asgard to face execution.”

Loki’s jaw clenched painfully tight as the chains suddenly disappeared from his body, leaving him bound instead by the fading itch of energy that settled into his body. A bracelet— small, thin, gold chain, perfect fit— had appeared on his wrist in their wake, and Loki knew it would not be removed by any but the spell caster and those he’d put in charge.

He let his gaze wander to his new captors, feeling every evil intention toward them file into his head in a hot, dark mass of hatred. The Captain glared back, but Loki ignored him, the pure, truthful patriot. The woman was who he focused on, that witch, that presumptuous harlot. Who was she to control him? He knew without asking that this had been mostly her idea. Her calm expression in the face of Odin declaration proved she’d had time to plan for it. 

Frigga stepped into his line of vision, blocking his view of the mortals. “Loki,” she began. “We will leave shortly for Earth.” Her expression hardened as she looked into his face, but her eyes still remained sorrowful, with something like hope flickering behind them. “I am going to negotiate with their authorities to allow your stay with Lady Eleanore and Captain Rogers. Before we leave, however, I have a final order for you to follow above all others,” she took a deep breath. “You will protect these two, and the team of Avengers above all else. No matter what they say, no matter what you feel, these people are your life. Heimdall will be watching you at all times, for your protection and theirs.” Loki’s eyes widened as he realized she was taking their side. He was outnumbered, as usual, and being sent away. Out of sight, out of trouble for them.

“You are eager to be rid of your supposed kin,” Loki spoke to both the King and Queen, his voice full of scorn. Thor shifted, but remained silent, his gaze locked on the floor.

“We hope your time on Earth will help you heal,” Frigga responded simply, and Loki caught himself nearly gaping in astonishment. 

“That pitiful whore and the useless soldier are good for nothing more than clumsy fighting and weak resistance,” he scoffed. Behind Frigga, the Captain stepped into view, the witch holding him back with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head.

Frigga’s expression changed to shocked disappointment, but she quickly covered it with a smile. “Think what you will, we leave now,” she said firmly. She did not approve of such language, Loki knew from past centuries of reprimand and etiquette lessons. The Captain and the witch approached her and stood near Loki, close enough for a quick snap of one of their necks. 

As though sensing his intentions, the Captain placed himself closest to Loki as they formed a tight circle. Frigga placed her hand on the wench’s arm and Loki’s and the Captain held onto his teammate.

“Travel well,” Odin nodded, raising Gungnir once more. Loki saw the power of the Tesseract gather at the spear’s tip in a glowing ball of blue. “My Queen, when you wish to return, Heimdall will inform me.” Frigga inclined her head, her expression now neutral. 

Gungnir crashed into the floor, and the flash of energy from its impact carried the four travelers in an instant to Midgard’s surface.

They landed on a rooftop in the pouring rain without the symbols the Bifrost usually left behind. From what Loki could see, this was not New York or Stuttgart. The buildings surrounding them were small, thin residences of brick and mortar with flat gravel roofs. Further away on all sides, taller structures loomed in the haze. After a moment spent looking around and at each other, the two mortals seemed to have their bearings.

“This way,” the Captain lead them over to a small shelter that housed a door and a small, ash-filled receptacle that reeked of the mortals’ tiny smoking papers. Loki followed, only to escape the downpour. The Captain held the door open for them, and it led down two flights of stairs and into a bright yellow hallway with red wooden doors. 216 A and B occupied one side of the hall, and 216C took up the other.

“Steve, can you…” the witch left her question hanging in the air as the Captain nodded. She darted toward the 216C door, and pulled a key from under the rug in front of it. “Brogan, are you here?” she called, entering the establishment. A mumbled male voice answered indistinctly.

“This is my apartment over here,” the Soldier retrieved his own key from under his mat at door 216A and let himself into a dark room. 

Frigga followed him, looking back. “Come, Loki.”

The lights began burning as they walked into a small, tiled area that led on one side into a kitchen full of mortal’s instruments with a closet at the end, and the other into a bathroom. In front of them lay an entertaining area that seemed to double as a modest study, with one blue chair and one brown fabric cushioned bench against the right wall with a small, half-filled bookshelf between them. A television sat on a table against the closest wall, and a door in the left led into what Loki presumed was a bedroom.

“Please, have a seat,” the Captain offered. Frigga placed herself on the couch, and Loki sat in the chair to be contrary. He wondered why the wench had not followed them into this hovel. “Can I get you anything? I’ve got water or some food I could heat up.”

“Water would be lovely, Captain,” Frigga smiled up at him, her court manners in place. Loki just glared.

“Water.” Rogers reached around and opened a cupboard, producing two clear glasses that he filled from a contraption on the sink. He handed one to Frigga, and set one on a small table beside Loki.

A series of thumping footsteps and impatient protests seeped from the hall through the closed door.

“Why do I have to go? You said I could meet him!” a male voice whined, retreating down the stairs.

“One, I have bigger problems, you can meet him later.” The witch sounded annoyed. “Two, you seriously grossed up my apartment when I asked you not to.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s awful, and I have guests waiting.” Her steps echoed away and the door closed as the man continued down the steps, grumbling inaudibly. Loki was almost amused at the witch’s dismissal of her underling. Perhaps she had minions, like mortal sorceresses before her. The pleasant image of her falling to the stolen power in which she dabbled crossed his mind, and he suppressed a smile.

“She won’t be long,” the Captain promised, hiding his own grin of a different origin.

“If I may,” Frigga stood and made her way toward the door. “I believe I can help her.”

“She won’t want you to see the mess,” the Captain warned.

“I will offer through the door,” Frigga smiled at him again, and swept into the hall.

The Soldier rubbed his neck, and fought back a sigh. He looked at Loki, “She makes a good queen.”

Loki did not reply, but silently agreed. Of the royals on the throne, Frigga was by far the most understanding and possibly the more intelligent of the two.

He felt a stirring of magic from the hallway, and the witch’s door opened abruptly.

“Are you— thank you so much!” she was out-of-breath and relieved. 

“It is my pleasure,” Frigga assured her. “Shall I bring the others?”

“I’ll get them, come in. That’s Charlie, he’s affectionate.” Footsteps across the hall again, and the Captain’s door opened without ceremony. “Steve, she cleaned everything, and the garbage disappeared. Loki, come on over.”

Already giving him orders. Loki felt his essential nature resisting the call to obey, but he stood and followed her out of the room, the Captain behind him. He would not allow them to see him struggle undignifiedly until he found a way to break the curse.

“We have a while before SHIELD shows up,” the witch tossed the words over her shoulder, probably meant for both of them, as she opened her door.

This dwelling was nearly identical to the Captain’s, but with two bedroom doors and different furniture. Frigga seated on the gray cushioned bench of this place in front of the windows, a large brown chair, and a dark gray circular one situated on the wall that connected to the rightmost bedroom. There was a larger book case between the chairs, and a lamp with multiple facets and spindly arms that emitted a warm light. The place felt and smelled clean, and Loki could sense the last traces of Frigga’s magic dissipating along the edges. 

“I’ll give you a tour.” Lady Eleanore paused with her hand on the door of the white icebox, leaning against it a moment. She moved away from it, brushing past Loki with a lack of concern that would have proved deadly in any other situation. As it was, Loki knew he would just look foolish if he lashed out, and that was the only thing that kept him from testing Frigga’s orders so quickly. Besides, the Captain was eyeing him with enough caution for both of the mortals put together.

“Loki, this will be your bedroom,” the apparently oblivious woman opened the white door on the right and flipped a switch on the wall, covering the room in pale light that emitted from the ceiling fixture. Loki walked slowly up behind her and noted the minuscule quarters. A bed, barely long enough for him, a desk with a chair, a chest of drawers, a closet, and a bookshelf all occupied an area around twelve feet square. If this was to be his cell, Loki would suffocate.

“It looks pleasant,” Frigga complemented, giving the hostess a smile. Loki shot his not-mother a silent look of incredulity, which she replied to, mouthing the words, “ Be polite.”

“Thanks,” Lady Eleanore returned, not aware of the silent conversation, moving out the door, again so close to Loki that he felt her breath as she passed him. The mortal witch was already entirely too comfortable around him. He was, after all, very dangerous. “This is my room,” she gestured at the other door across the living area, opening it to reveal a similarly-sized space. She didn’t bother to turn the light on. “Kitchen, pantry, and bathroom.” Within that short amount of time, the tour of the hovel was complete. “Oh, and this is Charlie.” A small animal with a tail nearly as long as its body darted up to her and rubbed against her legs. “He’s my cat, kitten really. He’s new here too.” She picked up the animal and it began emitting a rumbling noise.

“Things have certainly changed since I last visited Midgard.” Frigga looked around, settling back onto the couch. Loki had to agree. He could not remember his mother ever visiting this realm, therefore she must have done so long before he did, probably just after his ‘adoption’ and the Ice War.

“They must have,” the Captain agreed, taking a seat at the counter stool. “I was only gone for seventy years, and I barely recognize the place.” A hint of sadness crept into his voice at the end, and the Lady shot him a concerned glance. 

Just then, a buzzing filled the silent room. Loki honed in on the source immediately: the Captain’s pocket where he sat on the stool.

“Sorry, just a minute.” Rogers stood and pulled a communication device from his pocket, looking at the clear screen which read “ Stark, Darren Mobile 1. ” “Elle, is your cell phone off?” He turned the screen to face her and she stepped toward him. Loki figured out that the pet name was actually not a letter, only a shortened version of her true name.  Unoriginal.

“Oh, it must be. Here,” she held out her hand, placing the cat on the ground, and Rogers gave her the device. “Hello?”

“ Hey, your phone’s off.”  The voice of the witch’s lover came through to Loki’s ears, albeit a bit garbled from the tiny speaker and muffled by her ear. 

“Yeah, I got that,” the Lady smiled and walked into the kitchen, not removing herself in the least from Loki and Frigga’s hearing. The Captain, too, looked like he was listening to every word.

“ We got an energy reading at your apartment. Is that where they dropped you?”

“Yep, with a couple of guests.”

“ Who?”

“I’m not going to say over the phone,” Lady Eleanore smiled, then shot a glance at Frigga. “Can you just get Fury and everyone here for a situation report? No guns.”

“We’re five minutes— no, less— out. We left as soon as we got the reading. And everyone who normally has a gun is already carrying.”

“Am I on speaker?” the witch asked. Loki understood what she meant— her voice broadcast for the entirety of the group to hear.

“ Yeah,”  the young man sounded sheepish and familiar. Loki was trying to place him, to no avail.  “Okay, we’re jumping onto the roof now, so... See you in a minute.”  The call ended, and Lady Eleanore took the device away from her ear, handing it back to the Captain. 

“We never get to prepare people as much as we want,” she commented to him, ruefully. He nodded silently, casting a brief look at the apparently unexpected guests. Loki glared back at him, but Rogers’ eyes slid past him and back to the water witch.

Frigga rose just as steps echoed down the staircase in the hall. She came to stand near the mortals as the handle of the door turned, not opening, followed by a quick succession of knocks. Loki stood from the couch, knowing that a fight might lay ahead. He did not approach the door, planning an escape from the window if things turned sour.

“Elle?” the young man called, trying the handle again. 

“Just a second,” she turned to look at the Captain and Queen standing just behind her, finishing with her gaze trained on Loki. He glowered at her, and she pursed her lips, placing her hand on the door handle. “Are you ready for this?” The question was addressed to all of them.

“Sure.” The Captain took a deep breath, and his stance tensed.

“Let us not delay,” Frigga advised gently. Loki rolled his eyes at her considerate treatment of the mortal woman who would soon control the destiny of her youngest claimed ‘son.’ “We will explain to them together.”

Loki met the witch’s eyes once more and raised his eyebrows expectantly, frowning. She looked… afraid. Of what, he was not sure, although he suspected the nerves were not on her own behalf. Her lover stood on the other side of that door, after all, along with her battle-mates. No, she had nothing to fear. Neither had the Captain, and he was just as apprehensive. 

The concern must be for the reaction and the coming explanation, Loki decided. He inwardly smirked, happy in the knowledge that he was already causing mischief on Midgard again, and for those who presumed to control him. He vowed to do whatever he could to turn the other Avengers against his stay. 

“Loki, please don’t say anything unless Steve, your mom, or I talk to you first.” Loki’s jaw dropped a fraction as the mortal woman read his mind once more. Her power had slipped his mind, hidden under the guise of her average mortal appearance. The Captain looked at her and nodded with appreciation, and Frigga seemed to appraise her with new respect. 

Though the order was made in the form of a request, it tied Loki’s lips all the same. Otherwise, he would have told her just what he thought of her authority, and where she could go. It was Hel. He hoped instead to send her there himself one day. She looked unperturbed at the thoughts of her grisly murder that fermented in his mind, roiling into a turmoil that he suddenly felt pulled into himself. Torturous memories and his own screams took the place of revenge, even though his anger was present in force.

“Eleanore?” The boy’s voice pulled Loki from his reverie. He felt shocked into the present, like being dunked, unexpectedly, into an icy pond. Or like having his arm turned blue by a Frost Giant.

“Almost ready,” she looked around once more, eyes scanning everything from the cat stretched on the wooden floorboards to the bladed light fixture on the ceiling. “Okay, here we go.” Lady Eleanore sighed slowly, swallowed, and turned the handle.

 

 


	9. Definitions

"Hey," the Darren's eyes went straight to Eleanore, then to the rest of the room. He paused at the sight of Frigga, but stopped moving entirely when his gaze met Loki's. Steve could see the confusion freezing him in place as only his eyes moved from Loki to Elle to Frigga, and back.

"What the hell," Fury shouldered into the room, gun drawn. Romanov silently followed, and they both pointed their weapons at the dark-haired Asgardian. Stark and Banner followed, shock crossing their faces. Banner maintained his composure, but Steve wondered how little it would take to make him snap. With the weapons drawn, it was a real situation. Steve tensed even more, ready for action.

"Easy, people." Eleanore moved to stand in front of their pointed weapons. Darren placed his hand on her arm, giving action to the instinct Steve was also battling: pulling a friend out of the line of fire. "He's with us. Look, brown eyes, see?"

Romanov looked her over, gun still trained on Loki. "Could be a trick." She frowned, and her voice was flat and empty.

"It's not a trick," Steve spoke up, wanting to diffuse the standoff. Loki wasn't helping matters, standing tall and hunching his shoulders, looking threatening despite the cuts and bruises that were slowly healing across his face and hands, and the lack of armor. The demigod wore only black leather pants and a soft green tunic like Steve had gotten for the banquet.

Steve raised his in a placating gesture, using the movement to draw attention to himself.

"Then what the hell is it?" Fury's good eye was still focused on Loki, but Stark, Banner, and Romanov all gave him an appraising glance.

"I'm afraid this misunderstanding is my fault." Frigga stood beside Steve, and Eleanore and Darren both turned to look at her. "Please, let me explain our intentions."

"Who are you?" Tony asked, strangely cautious. Steve figured having his son and his possible future daughter-in-law standing in front of a couple of trained assassins intent on shooting through or around them at a hostile target had a quieting effect. Banner stood silently behind him, watching everything, not getting involved.

"I am Queen Frigga of Asgard," Frigga answered, stepping gracefully around Steve, past Darren and Eleanore, holding out her hand to Fury. The leader of SHIELD looked her over, then lowered his gun and shook her hand, maintaining his scowl. Romanov didn't take her aim off of Loki.

"Director Fury with SHIELD," he greeted her, courtesy an undertone in his voice.

"It is an honor to meet you, Director Fury," Frigga smiled up at him. "And to meet the Captain and Lady Eleanore's shield brothers."

"Yeah," Tony stepped forward. "So why did you bring Rock of Ages back to Earth? Revival tour?" Steve looked at Elle, and she was rolling her eyes at the reference that he didn't understand.

"My son needs healing which Asgard cannot supply," Frigga explained, ignoring the strange language. "Lady Eleanore and Captain Rogers confirmed that Earth could be a place of… mental restoration."

All eyes turned to Loki, who had stiffened at the mention of his problem. He looked like he was biting back so many words, probably profanities and insults, and Steve was glad Elle had given him the order not to speak.

"So what, you want us to give him a prison cell and a shrink?" Tony kept talking, and Fury looked like he was also interested in that line of questioning.

"Actually," Elle walked around the counter, right by Steve, and stood between their group and Loki. Steve glanced at Darren and saw him clenching his jaw, his expression going from curious to anxious in a snap as Elle came to a stop about two feet in front of Loki. "We were thinking of a more immersive, long-term experience."

"Don't tell me," Romanov said derisively. "You'll take care of it."

"Yes. Steve and I." Eleanore met the assassin's eyes confidently, and Steve felt the tension reach an even higher pitch as he glanced between the two women. Romanov ignored him, staying focused on Elle, a thoughtful frown on her face.

"Lady Eleanore and Captain Rogers were kind enough to accept my request for them to help my son," Frigga agreed, her tone softly authoritative.

"Hold up," Fury interjected, angrily incredulous. "So, without permission, you two just decided to bring Loki back here." He ignored Eleanore and glared outright at Steve, as if to say,  You were supposed to watch her.

"We didn't have a way to contact you," Steve responded to the look, not appreciating the assumption of his allegiance to Fury's SHIELD. "We did what we thought was best." He wanted to let everyone know that it was his choice as much as Eleanore's, both to support her and to get rid of their pitying glances. It was like they thought she always barreled ahead and he was dragged behind whether he wanted to go or not.  Bucky probably felt this way sometimes.

"King Odin and I agreed upon this form of retribution," Frigga added, louder now, commanding the room's attention. Loki even turned his eyes to her, apparently listening. "We asked for their assistance, and they graciously accepted. Magic has been placed, ensuring Loki's obedience, and your planet's safety."

"When you say obedience," Darren spoke up, furrowing his brow in thought. "You mean he has to listen to us?"

"Only the Captain and the Lady can command him, and he must remain with them," Frigga clarified, nodding to Darren, then looking pointedly at Fury and Tony. "But spells have been placed to keep him from causing them and anyone they consider a friend harm."

"What about enemies?" Romanov asked, still holding her gun. Steve wondered whether she would get tired of the one-sided standoff.

"He shall fight alongside your team." Frigga looked over at her son, who turned away and crossed his arms, staring out the window and effectively ignoring the conversation.

Steve couldn't blame Loki for his frustration. Being talked about like an object with no free will was something Steve had experienced on several occasions, both in the 1940's and in the present time. Unlike those times, though, Loki currently lacked a voice to make his own opinions known. Steve debated asking him to speak, then decided against it.

Fury grunted, drawing Steve's attention. "So basically this is already decided."

"I apologize for any inconvenience," Frigga began, sounding really sorry. "But we required the decision in order to sentence Loki on Asgard."

"Inconvenience?" Banner chuckled. "I'd call New York a little more than an inconvenience." He was still in control, calm, collected, sarcastic. Steve tried to stop the mental image of Hulk tearing through the apartment building, taking Loki for another smashing joy ride.

"Mind control," Elle reminded them.

"Can you change the handlers?" Fury ignored her, turning back to Frigga. "Maybe you'd want someone more experienced."

Steve looked at Eleanore, and watched her lips sink into a thin line of silent disapproval. "She has some experience," he pointed about, since she didn't look like she was going to reply.

"Lady Eleanore is the clear choice," Frigga agreed, raising an eyebrow at Fury. "Her attitude, experience, and hope all give me reason to trust her with my son. Anyone else would view Loki as a tool or experiment. She and the Captain wish to help him." Those words were directed both to the small group of skeptics and to Loki, Steve could see. The demigod didn't move or respond in any way, not even with a blink.

"She's not even twenty—" Tony began, shaking his head and stepping around his son.

"Elle," Natasha interrupted him. "You really think this'll work?" She looked at Eleanore with a mixture of interest and trust.

Eleanore squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He just needs time and a place to heal."

Romanov nodded and re-holstered her gun, clicking the safety and relaxing her stance. Steve didn't let his surprise show, figuring the two women knew each other better than he'd thought. Apparently Natasha wasn't as loyal to SHIELD as she'd seemed when they first met. At least more people were on their side.

Fury was not hiding his shock at all, scoffing as he glanced between the two women. "So we're expected to host him for how long?"

"I'm afraid I cannot answer that," Frigga turned to Steve, then Eleanore. "It does not depend on me."

"However long it takes," Elle walked over to the group again, leaning on the counter. "Anyone want to have a seat? We can talk about the plans in detail. I'm going to start making some chili, too." Steve hid a grin; just like that, it had turned into a dinner party involving an alien queen, a prisoner alien prince, two spies, two billionaires, a radioactive hair-trigger, and a thawed-out super soldier, all in a mutant woman's tiny apartment.

"I'm going to go confer with my agency about how we're going to get the world council to agree to this, since it's apparently out of my hands." Fury shook his head, looking suddenly exhausted with the proceedings. "Engman, Rogers, I want a typed up proposal from both of you by tomorrow afternoon, outlining your exact plans." He glared at them each once more before turning and leaving. His boots clumped down the stairs to where a car must be waiting.

Steve looked around the still-brimming apartment, feeling a sense of incompleteness. "Where's Jet?" he asked as the absence of the dragon's blue gaze suddenly dawned on him.

"He flew back on his own. Should be here in half an hour or so," Darren informed him, moving to sit in the gray chair Elle usually lounged on while reading. Charlie emerged from underneath it and jumped into his lap, purring loudly. Romanov pulled out the bar stool and sat with her elbows leaning on the counter. Frigga walked around Loki to sit on the corner of the couch nearest him, and the demigod seated himself next to her, still clearly seething. Banner leaned against the wall next to the door, and Steve let his shoulder press into the divider between the kitchen and the entryway. With Fury gone, the atmosphere had lost a lot of tension.

"Well, after this, Pepper can't say I'm the craziest person in the family," Tony muttered, earning half a smile from his son and a full-on smirk from Eleanore as she moved into the kitchen and removed a white package from the freezer. He sighed, scratching the back of his head and looking around. "I assume I'm funding this project."

"Asgard will provide recompense, of course," Frigga responded just as Elle said, "Tony, don't call this a project."

"What should I say, then, Princess?" Tony asked, looking over her shoulder as she dumped the block of hamburger into a pan and turned on the stove.

Eleanore wrinkled her nose, "I'll get back to you. Hand me the chili powder." Tony did, taking it from the spice cupboard above to the left of the stove. She looked over her shoulder as the pan started sizzling, "Loki, you want to voice your opinions?"

Steve watched the demigod take a breath and slowly let it out, scowling darkly at her back. Frigga placed a hand on his knee, and he stilled a moment before looking at her with scorn. "I presume any opinion of mine would fall quickly under your absolute rule." Steve couldn't tell whether he was talking to Eleanore or Frigga.

"No, go ahead," Elle was focusing on the quickly-crumbling, sizzling hamburger, stirring it around and then heading for the pantry where she got a couple of cans of chili beans.

"I have nothing to add at the moment." Loki picked up Frigga's hand as though it disgusted him, and gently placed it back in her own lap.

"Come on, Reindeer Games," Tony prodded. He turned and faced Loki, a shit-eating grin on his face. Steve had to stop himself from stepping forward and throwing the billionaire out for provoking such a dangerous person in an enclosed space.  Nothing changed from the helicarrier.

"Dad, stop." Darren cautioned him, saving Steve the trouble of speaking up. "Give him some time to adjust."

"You think I fear the ridicule of a child killer," Loki jeered. Steve tensed as the angered demigod rose quickly, standing over everyone and looking down his nose at them.

"Oookay," Elle pulled Tony back and gave him the spoon to stir the pan of beans. He did, but he also made a mess, splashing sauce over the edge of the pot on purpose and holding his shoulders so tensely that Steve knew Loki's jab had hit home. "We don't need personal attacks right now. Darren, want to get my desk chair out, so we can all sit down? Steve, here," as Darren walked past Loki to the bedroom, she opened the pantry again and took out a couple of folding chairs. "Now we can all eat."

"Actually," Frigga stood, glancing at Loki as she gathered herself, "I believe my usefulness has come to an end for now. Thank you for your hospitality, but I must depart."

"But you might have to explain to the World Council about all this," Steve pointed out as Frigga shook Eleanore's hand.

"If you have need of me, Heimdall will inform me and I will be sent here again," the Queen assured them. She held out her hand and Steve shook it, nodding his understanding.

"I'll walk you out," Darren offered, setting down the desk chair in front of the television.

"Thank you," Frigga took his arm and they left, their steps echoing up the stairs until the door opened at the roof.

Steve looked at Loki to see how he was handling himself now that his mom had gone. Loki was gazing around the room, glancing at each person in turn. Steve raised his eyebrows when Loki's eye fell on him, but the demigod didn't respond, moving on to stare at Bruce.

"The monster is properly caged?" he asked, an innocent tone coming into his soft voice.

"He's glad to see  you again," Bruce acknowledged with a grin. "Can't say I feel the same way."

"And you, Black Widow," Loki ignored the jibe and focused on Natasha. "Did your lost bird come home?"

"We'll probably have to keep him away from you," she said, her eyes going cold. "He still wants to shoot you in the eye."

"Exemplary," Loki grinned slightly, pleased. "When this plan fails, I will pay you each a visit."

"Nothing's failing," Steve stepped forward, drawing himself up. "Stop trying to start a fight."

The look Loki gave him was part hatred, part anguish. Steve realized that he must be fighting the order with everything he had, while trying to hide his struggle from the rest of them. He suddenly felt guilty for putting his power over Loki on display, even though he hadn't meant to. Steve looked to Elle, who was watching Loki with concern.

"If you want, you could go check out your room." Her offer was met with another glare, and Loki stood and stalked over to her.

"I will not cower behind your useless pity," he snarled, just as Darren opened the door with Jet beside him. Loki's eyes widened, his lips sealed, and he froze, staring at the dragon.

"Jet," Eleanore greeted him, kneeling and patting his head. Jet shook her off, returning Loki's stare intensely. "Loki's going to stay with us for a while, okay?" The dog-dragon snorted, moving to stand between Eleanore and Loki.

Darren's lips twitched as he wrapped an arm around Eleanore and kissed her on the temple. "So that's what you meant when you said I was good at illusions. But no, the dragon is real." Loki glanced up at him, then backed slowly to the couch and sat down. Jet sat between the kitchen and the living room, sniffing at Charlie, who rubbed against his front legs.

"Here Tony," Elle took over the chili again, dishing it up into bowls. Darren handed Loki's over, complete with cheese, crackers, and a spoon. The rest of them were served, and they all sat down, avoiding the sofa. Elle pulled a chair back to sit next to Natasha and Bruce in the kitchen, and Darren sat back down in Elle's gray chair. Tony took the desk chair, wolfing down the food like he hadn't eaten in days, which he probably hadn't. Steve took a seat in the brown leather armchair. They all ate in silence, except for Loki, who looked down at the bowl with disgust and set it aside.

"So, I'm just going to say it." Tony finished before everyone else, settling back in his seat and spreading his hands in front of him. "This is weird."

"Yeah?" Bruce asked sarcastically. "Eating supper with the guy who blew up your tower wasn't in your daily plan?"

"It's interesting," Natasha agreed, eyeing Loki from under her long lashes.

"What have you guys been doing while we were gone?" Elle asked, looking up at her. She was clearly trying to deflect the attention, to talk to her teammates normally.

"Picking up the pieces," Natasha told her. "There's a lot left to do."

"Yeah, Jet's been especially helpful," Tony interjected. "Ripping up concrete, melting rebar, digging bodies out of the rubble…"

Steve's jaw clenched, and he glanced at Loki. The demigod was brazenly calm, looking at Stark like he was an amusing monkey.

"We should help with the cleanup," Elle commented, her expression clashing with her voice: soft calm versus sadness. "With Jet, we could commute pretty quickly every day."

"I would offer to put you up at the Tower, but the living room's a bit breezy at the moment." Tony was on a roll. "I don't want to hire repair men who are busy unearthing missing relatives. It's really all about closure."

"Stark..." Steve began, ready to get into another argument if that was what it took to take the pained, cheek-biting expression off Eleanore's face.

Darren cleared his throat, "Dad, is Happy here yet?" he stood and took Tony's bowl, putting them in the sink. Then he placed his hand on Elle's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. She put her hand on top of his and leaned back, apparently comforted.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Tony stood as well, checking his phone, clapping Steve on the back. "Good luck, Cap. See you tomorrow. Coming back to the lab, Banner?"

"Yep," Bruce rose and placed his bowl on the island. "Thanks for dinner." Elle got up and kissed Darren on the cheek, smiled at the men as they left.

The apartment quieted drastically as their footsteps faded down the stairs. Charlie trilled and jumped up on his litter box, cracking pellets of food between his teeth.

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll stay in town," Natasha was the last to stand, patting Eleanore's shoulder before ghosting from the apartment, leaving them in silence once more.

Elle sighed and locked the door, moving to gather the silverware in one hand and placing it in the dishwasher's rack. Steve picked up Loki's untouched bowl, and handed her the empty ones with the other hand. He got out some plastic wrap from a drawer and placed it over the steaming chili before putting the container in the fridge.

"That went pretty well," he commented quietly as she stacked the dishes and poured the soap into the compartment. She smiled up at him, looking weary but pleased.

"Better than I thought it would," she agreed, wiping her hands and pressing the  Start button. The machine began spraying water, and Jet moved to lay on the living room floor with a sniff. Charlie walked over and hit Elle's leg with his tail, looking up at her expectantly. "Did Brogan teach you to beg already?" she asked him. He responded with a pitiful meow, sounding like he was starving to death.

"He looks better already," Steve remarked, noticing that Charlie's ribs were much less visible, and his eyes had the interested, alive look of a healthy cat.

"He does," Elle nodded. She picked up the cat and stepped around to the living room, sinking into her reading chair with a sigh. Steve followed, taking the leather armchair to place himself between her and Loki again.

"So," Elle began as Charlie rolled over and hugged her left arm with his front paw. She scratched his belly and his purrs filled the room with a gravelly rumble. "Tomorrow we're going to go back to New York." She was speaking directly to Loki, the informational tone coming into her voice.

"So I gather," Loki said pleasantly, throwing Steve off guard. "And you will be digging at the bodies Stark so delightfully described." His careless tone was purposeful, contrasting sharply with the subject of his words.

"You'll be helping too," Steve assured him, not letting Loki intimidate him. The thought of the eyes of the dead they would find turned his stomach, not out of revulsion, but sorrow.

"It seems like the recovery would be almost over," Eleanore said speculatively. "Not many buildings actually collapsed. I think we'll be rebuilding a lot."

Loki looked between the two of them, something building in his eyes. "Rebuilding your mortal buildings is not something I am interested in." He was challenging them, but Steve didn't see why.

"And yet, that's what you'll do," Elle informed him lightly, leaning her chin on her right hand.

"Do you order me to do so, witch?" Loki hissed the last word menacingly.

"Yes." Elle frowned at him, keeping her reply simple.

There was silence for a moment, but it was far from peaceful. Steve tensed with apprehension as Loki's expression went from disdain to anger to pure rage.

"You think yourself so far above me," he mocked, "you have sealed your fate by meddling with mine."

"I don't think I'm above you," Elle stayed calm, even as Steve got ready to jump between the two of them. "Loki, we really just want to help."

"Pitiful harlot," Loki spat, nearly shouting. "I will strangle you with your own concern. I will eviscerate everyone you have ever cared for as you—"

"Enough." Eleanore stood up, holding Charlie on one arm, her voice like the crack of a whip. Steve stood with her, but he let her speak. She breathed in for a long time, then let it out in a sigh. "We should all get some rest. I'll get you a toothbrush." She placed Charlie on the chair, where he curled up with a yawn, and went into the bathroom, leaving the two men staring after her.

Steve looked at Loki, who was still watching the door into which she had disappeared. He bit back a grin at the disgruntled expression that sat on the demigod's face, widening his eyes, drawing his lips into a flat line. The threat was excellent, he thought, remembering how Eleanore had admitted her nightmares to him, but Loki wouldn't know that from her reaction. For the first time, Steve thought that this might actually work, as Elle returned from the bathroom, holding out a green toothbrush and a new tube of toothpaste.

"You have things kind of like this on Asgard," she said, holding out the items. Loki took them, then blankly stared at his hand, looking confused. "Tomorrow we'll get you some more clothes to wear. For now, I have a pair of sweats that might fit you." She disappeared into her room, emerging a few seconds later with pants that appeared too large for her. These she gave to Loki as well, and he held them in his other hand, looking up at her silently. "You can get ready for bed while I change your sheets. Want to help me, Steve?"

"Sure," Steve watched Loki walk into the bathroom and close the door. The lack of protest was already strange, but Loki had been acting weird anyway. Weird compared to what Steve knew of him, that is. Steve hoped he wouldn't break anything in there, then dismissed it, following Elle into the guest room where the comforter sat on top of the mattress.

"Here," Elle handed him the corner of a white fitted sheet, then launched herself across the bed and attached her end to the far corner that sat flush against the wall. Water started running in the bathroom sink, then there was no noise at all. Elle looked at the wall that connected the two rooms, then at Steve, "I bet he used a silencing spell. He's still in there."

"Darren do that?" Steve asked, stepping back as she pulled a dryer sheet from a drawer and stuck it under the bottom sheet.

"Yeah," she smoothed the sheet, then unfurled the top one. Steve stepped around and tucked it into the bottom, getting tight military corners on the first try. Elle got out cases for the three pillows, and they finished by spreading the blue comforter over the clean-smelling bed.

Elle sighed again with satisfaction, turning and surveying the spotless floor, the bare desk, the closed blinds, the empty closet. "Thanks for not jumping down his throat earlier," she remarked offhand, and Steve nodded.

"No problem," he replied. "Knew you could handle it."

"We're going to have to be careful about what we order him to do." She put a hand up to her forehead and then let it continue to her hair, pulling the bands out and letting it fall in curling waves around her shoulders. Shaking her head, she ruffled her hand through it, looking more tired by the minute.

"Want me to sleep on the couch tonight?" Steve offered, thinking it would help her rest easier to know someone was on watch.

"No, thanks. We should establish a routine early." Eleanore looked up at him and grinned. "Coffee in the morning? We can work on our proposals then."

"If we have time," he nodded, following her as she went back into the kitchen. She poured the leftover chili into a Tupperware container and placed it in the fridge, the pot in the sink, and ran water over the mess. Charlie roused himself from the chair and trilled all the way over to where they stood, sitting on Eleanore's right foot as she washed the pan.

The bathroom door opened and Loki emerged, wearing his own shirt and a pair of his own cloth leggings that he got from who-knew-where, carrying Eleanore's sweatpants in one hand.

"I furnished my own clothing," he handed the pants to her, reaching across Steve, glancing at Charlie as Elle moved her foot and deposited him on the rug.

"That's fine," Elle gave him half a grin and reached for his face, stopping herself when he jerked back. "Sorry. I'll heal you the rest of the way if you want."

Loki looked at Steve, then at her, raising his eyebrows and bringing them together. "Is that an order?" Steve heard a curious undertone, along with an edge of leftover anger in Loki's voice.

"No, just an offer," Elle assured him.

"Then no." Loki turned and walked into the living room. "Am I allowed to enter my quarters?"

"Of course," Eleanore said as Steve nodded, "Go for it."

Loki narrowed his eyes at them, then went into the room and closed the door.

"Well," Steve looked down at Elle, who was watching the door intently, probably listening to Loki's emotions. "I'll head out, I guess. Couch offer still stands."

"We'll be okay," she glanced over at Jet, who had leapt up on the sofa and sat watching them as Charlie curled up on his back. "Try to get some sleep."

"You too," Steve looked at her closely. "Did you even sleep on Asgard?"

"Not a lot. I kept worrying about today." She shrugged, "I'll head right to bed tonight, and that coffee in the morning is going to help." She glanced up as he rolled his eyes lightly. "I planned stuff out. Like when you go punch your cares away."

"I'll leave my door unlocked," Steve promised, ignoring the jibe. "Come get me if you need anything. Or just yell."

"Okay, goodnight." He headed out the door, and to his own apartment, opening his door just as hers swung closed with a click and a thud. The lock didn't slide into place, and he wondered whether it was for his assurance or Eleanore's.

Deciding it didn't really matter, Steve entered his own alien-free rooms, noticing for the first time that he still smelled like that soap from Asgard. Turning on his kitchen light, he got a glass of water and chugged it, listening to the complete silence around him. He debated whether or not to sketch that night, and decided against it. He wanted to get to sleep and wake up early to get a real workout in before meeting with Elle and Loki for coffee.

His nighttime routine was short: brush teeth, wipe face off, relieve oneself, change clothes, get in bed. It was lying there in the dark that got to him. The day's events flashed through his mind, and he knew that sleep wasn't going to come easy. Sighing, he placed a hand behind his pillow and stretched, sorting through his thoughts to find what bothered him the most.

Odin's treatment of Loki was close to the top of the list, along with Thor and everyone else's acceptance of it. Frigga was the only one who seemed to find something wrong with the harsh attitude of her husband, and even then she couldn't do anything about it. The people's attitude mirrored their king's, so of course she'd wanted to send Loki to Earth to escape. That much made sense. But what was so wrong about Loki's adoption that he got so angry about it? Was it just built up anger from how his father had treated him in the past? Elle didn't even know, and Steve wanted to be there when she found out. Considering Loki's attitude that day, it wouldn't happen for a long, long time.

It would take time, first of all, to get everyone used to each other. Natasha hadn't been kidding about Barton's revenge. Steve planned on keeping them in different rooms whenever possible, and placing himself between the archer and the demigod when they were forced to meet. Elle would probably do the same thing, and Darren and Romanov would help.

Tony was also going to be a problem, Steve thought, remembering his passive-aggressive jabs that provoked Loki along with everyone else. The billionaire might be willing to fund their venture, but that was clearly for Eleanore's sake alone. He wouldn't forgive Loki for a long time, maybe never.

The World Council made Steve nervous, never having met with them, and knowing that they had sent the nuke to take out Manhattan. With power like that, they could send a strike team to take Loki out, and anyone who got in the way would be killed along with him. That meant Jet, Eleanore, Darren, even Captain America could become a glossed-over tragedy that got a week of sorrowful coverage on the news before the public moved on to the next big thing.

Loki was powerful too, Steve remembered, thinking of those illusions he had conjured in Stuttgart, and the way he'd fought. The guy was physically as tough as Thor, and much cleverer. He had magic of unknown limitations at his disposal. Elle was right— getting Loki on their side was just as important as the rehabilitation, especially now that Earth was apparently ready for 'a higher form of war.'

Steve rolled on his side and closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like Bruce had said. Focusing on each breath and the way it filled his lungs, relaxing his muscles more and more. It wasn't working.

Sighing again, Steve rolled onto his back, flopping over the bed so his fingers touched either edge. In the Army, he'd often slept close to his comrades for warmth, only a blanket or a coat between his sore muscles and the ground. The soft, empty mattress was not relaxing in the least because it made him feel so alone. There was nothing he could do about it, either, at least not tonight. If Elle walked in and found him curled up on the floor, she'd be worried, ask questions, check on him more, lose sleep that she actually needed.

Besides, he had no right to be so ungrateful for a good, solid bed. He looked over the gray plaid comforter set over crisp white sheets with something called 'memory foam' in the pillows that Elle had recommended. They were very comfortable. This was the height of luxury compared to the tiny cot he'd grown up with.  Just go to sleep .

He checked his watch.  One thirty. Three hours of sleep was great for his post-serum body. The five he'd gotten the night before had been the most he'd gotten since before the War. He blamed and thanked Asgard's mead for that. Eleanore had commented one day as she walked out of her room, taking a break from homework, that his high metabolism meant he should keep up on sleep as much as he could. Steve had told her that she sounded like his mom, and that made her laugh. They'd spent an hour afterward comparing notes as they used their computers to research the amount of energy it took to restore muscle, bone, skin cells. Steve knew she was maneuvering, making him practice technology, but he didn't mind because it was kind of fun. Having that much information at his fingertips was a huge change from sorting through every topic in the vast libraries of the 1940's.

Focus on your breathing, damn it, he chided himself, shaking his head. Checked his watch again:  Two. That left two and a half hours to rest. Yep. And he knew he needed to be alert later, to watch Loki, to work helping rebuild Manhattan. He  knew that, but he couldn't sleep.

"Just let your mind wander, " Elle had advised him, once, when he'd looked at a blank page and couldn't find something to draw. He tried it, letting memories in, letting them take over. They were so vivid, it was like he was there again. Peggy's kiss, the Commandos' cheering, Bucky's laugh, running through the streets as a kid. His mother's smile, Erskine's joy when he'd emerged from the container as a successful experiment, running on his new legs for the first time, crashing into that bridal shop. Swimming as fast as the submarine.

It worked; he felt tired. Steve let his eyes drift closed. Tramping through France, Austria, and Germany. Trekking into the Alps. Watching the radio get set up, thinking it was the most advanced technology he'd ever seen. The helicarrier's engines rising from the water, Darren fixing the coil, Tony flying into the portal. The alien ships dying. The Chitauri falling over. Thor's expression when Elle healed him. Quiet shawarma. Jet's tail knocking out a hydrant.

His thoughts growing more and more disjointed, Steve drifted into a light, dream-filled sleep.

 


	10. Reparations

Loki did not sleep. He listened through the door as the Captain left, the witch walked to her room, the lights under the door went out. Once everything was quiet, he stealthily raised the shades on the leftmost window and opened it, feeling the cool night breeze washing over him, smelling of nature, exhaust, and freedom. He lifted his hands to the screen, planning on placing it quietly on the floor, when his fingertips went numb. He froze, drawing them back, and the feeling completely returned to them as though nothing had happened. He tried again, forcing his hands closer, and this time the numbness spread to his wrists, rendering everything completely immobile. 

Frowning, Loki withdrew and felt around the room. There was no magic embedded in the walls, no spells that turned this room into a holding cell. The magic was within himself, then. The will of Odin directing his every action. The thought made his anger flare, but it settled quickly as there was nothing and no one to direct it toward.

The witch had disconcerted him earlier in the same manner, by not rising to the bait of his threats. He’d been sinking into his anger, picturing the destruction he would cause, the misery she would feel, and she had silenced him and simply walked away. He’d been left standing next to the righteous Captain, his mind turmoiling as the anger was stopped and few emotions were left to fill the breach. In the lavatory, he’d ordered his thoughts, drawing clothes from his storage space between spaces and figuring out tooth cleaning apparatus and minty paste. She was right, of course- they did have such things on Asgard, and it seemed an eternity since Loki had been able to use one. He ran his tongue once more over his teeth, where the mint taste still clung.

Sighing, Loki turned back to survey the dark room. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, since the street lamp cast a reflected glow even through the white window shades. He closed the window with one hand, and drew the blinds back down before he approached the bed that emitted a faint odor of flowers. Drawing back the covers, he smelled it more strongly, and determined that the scent was coming from under the bottom sheet, which fitted to the mattress. It was not unpleasant, so he left it alone and moved on to explore the rest of the room.

The chest of drawers revealed a couple of extra blankets and a heavy coat that appeared to belong to the Lady. The top three large drawers, and the two small ones were completely empty and even dusted. The mirror showed him in sharp relief, and he noted how long his hair had become before turning back. The closet, likewise, contained a couple of thick woven shirts on hangars and a pair of feminine snow boots, but other than that the room was clear.

The pictures on the walls were the only real clutter. Amateur, with a lack of direction, they mostly depicted flowers or outdoor scenes. One caught Loki’s eye: the dragon in flight, orange with blue eyes, spikes, and flames. This one, while only a rough outline of the beast, did show some motion through the outstretched wings and streamlined body. Some sort of iridescent paint had been skillfully dotted to simulate the tiny scales that covered its body when it was in its true form. Loki thought of the dog in the other room; the tamed monster that this sorceress apparently controlled. 

His estimation of her power rose as he realized that, in many ways, he was simply another weapon added to her arsenal. Whether that was her intention or not was yet to be determined, but Loki would not be shocked if she turned out to be some sort of mastermind, bringing people with gifts to her side and building a simple army of great potential. The Avengers were already hers, and while she was certainly not their leader, she clearly had significant swaying capacity. Yes, she was clever indeed, to keep out of the spotlight while amassing her forces for whatever she had planned.

At any rate, he had to deal with her when night was over. He checked the clock on the bedside table and found that it already read two thirty. He’d learned the typical length of a night in his previous visits to Midgard, so he estimated he had a few hours left to sleep, depending on when he was supposed to get up. While normally he wouldn’t rest in the home of a sworn enemy, he knew that she was also under surveillance by Heimdall. There was no threat from her or any of her compatriots, and he sent a burst of magic to alert him if the window was breached by outside forces. At this point, he surmised, the forces of Midgard would be wholly unaware of his return, except for those with SHIELD. If he could have escaped, it would have been an excellent time to start another plan for the planet’s rule. It’s combined militaristic forces were so discordant that it would be at least a week before all the agencies-within-agencies knew of his return. As it was, he resigned himself to a lull in the tension that had made up his life for the past year or so. Truly, this was not as bad as torture from the Other, and there was more possibility from his position within the Avengers.

Loki slumped onto the bed, trying to avoid aggravating his quickly healing injuries. Only his back and leg truly hurt by that time, and he suspected that they were a product of his outburst on Asgard. He managed to lie back on the pillows, which were made of some firm material that was much more supportive than the soft down he’d grown up with. 

His weariness overcame him as Loki let his muscles relax. The spots of sleep he’d gotten over the course of the past day had not been enough to replenish his energy, especially since his magic was so bound while he was held on Asgard. He tried to draw his thoughts to a close, and for the most part they obeyed, only the occasional flash of misery or torture appearing behind his closed eyes. 

He was not aware of how long it took him to slip into unconsciousness, but he knew the moment he clawed his way back, yelling and landing on the floor in a tangled heap. His legs were held to the bed by the tight sheets twisted around his ankles. His breath was coming is short gasps, panicking him further, making him feel like he could not get enough air. That was one way the Other had tortured him: stripping him of his innate protective magic and exposing him to the vacuum of the asteroid, where his choking made no sound. His vision would fade with the image of the Other’s hand inches from his face, and he would wake in the dark, cold, cave of a cell with a rasping throat and the inability to fill his lungs completely.

“Loki?” a soft voice called from the outer room, waking him fully. A trill answered, and footsteps announced the Lady Eleanore’s arrival. They paused outside his door a moment, and Loki scrambled to right himself in case she just walked in. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” He kept his answer short, not trusting his voice. Besides, what did she truly care? He assessed himself and discovered that his leg no longer hurt, but the muscles of his back were so tense that they were grinding together those last few fissures in the bones there. He breathed in and out, bringing himself down, and faced the door.

“Will you open the door, please?” No accompanying impulse to obey. Not an order. The magic that bound them must take the intention of the speaker into account. That was why he could open the window, but not remove the screen. Loki fingered the bracelet thoughtfully, feeling the magic attached to it stir, warming his body from the inside out.

“No.” He said it because he could, and to see if she would assert her will over his once more.

An invisible sigh was her reply, but she did not move or touch the door. “Want anything for breakfast?”

Loki stared at the white panel that separated them, thinking. Because he hadn’t been angry, her reply had not thrown him as it had the night before. And she was allowing him privacy, or at least a semblance of it. What did it really matter, though, if she could read his mind? “I will be out in a moment.” He wanted to be able to speak for himself, even if she could pluck answers from his thoughts.

“Okay.” She walked away, and the cat made another noise. Loki checked the clock again:  six . “Steve will be here in a few minutes,” she informed him from across the room.

Loki did not reply, drawing on his magic to smooth his hair, make his body clean, and change his clothing into the casual leathers and soft tunic he had not worn for months. It was refreshing, being back in his normal clothing. He had never bothered to change in his time imprisoned on the asteroid, letting his armor take many of the hits meant for him. Thus, he was more difficult to injure, but the Chitauri seemed to believe that his clothing was actually his skin, so it was never removed. 

Today he wore a gray tunic with black leather leggings and black boots. They were not his best, and he had chosen them in preparation for digging through the rubble that the elder Stark had described. A few more scuffs would not make much of a difference. As he moved to open the door, he caught sight of himself once more in the mirror. While his mother would approve of the current length of his hair, Loki had always preferred it shorter. It did not fly about and stray into his face as much when it was at a manageable length. Thor’s wild mane had always caused him trouble, but he refused to cut it, for it was much favored among the court women. Loki had no such qualms. He raised a hand and the extra inches disappeared, replaced by his normal, close-cut style. He nodded with satisfaction and opened the door.

Sunlight filtered at an angle through the branches of the tree that stood just outside the building on the south side. The shades of the main room’s windows were completely drawn, and only one electric light above the stove shone to disrupt the natural rays. The dragon sat next to the television, staring at Loki with those disconcerting, blue-patterned eyes. The cat walked over and sniffed his leg. Loki allowed it, along with the sidelong rub that it executed before it turned away and walked into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Lady Eleanore emerged from her bedroom, tying the end of a braid with an elastic band. She stopped and looked Loki over, stopping with his head. “Your hair’s different.”

“I took the opportunity to revert it to my preferred style,” he said pleasantly, deciding to scope out what she was really capable of. Knowledge was power, and he needed everything he could get. Perhaps the pretense of sanity would also bring her to release him before long anyway. Loki liked to keep every option open.

“Was it a nightmare? Earlier?” She walked up to him, stopping a short distance away, searching his eyes with an uncomfortably familiar gaze. 

“I do not remember,” Loki said truthfully. He redirected his thoughts to her appearance so that she would not glean anything from his memories of the undignified waking process. She was wearing a loose tunic herself , gray with short sleeves, and those blue leggings along with light gray, thin-soled shoes. Her hair was damp, and Loki inwardly berated himself for sleeping through her movements in the room abutting his own. But then he realized the silencing spell was still in place from the night before. He decided to leave it, so as not to hear any unpleasant noises in his already apparently terrifying slumber.

“I hate those,” the witch was shaking her head sympathetically. “At least when I remember them, I can make sure they’re not real.” Loki did not want this connection.

“You mentioned breakfast?” He changed the subject because he didn’t want to talk about his dreams, and because he was hungry from skipping the meal the previous night.

“Eggs sound good?” she quit examining him and walked over to the kitchen. “I’ll cook today. Usually I skip breakfast or just grab a granola bar. But we’ll both need energy for the cleanup, so eggs it is.”

Loki ignored her diatribe and headed into the bathroom, where the door completely cut off the sound of her voice. He took as long as possible in the quiet, cleaning his teeth once more, relieving himself, examining the modular bathing unit, before he sighed and headed back out. He had to get information, after all.

The smell of spices and frying eggs met him, along with a loud sizzling, as he emerged into the kitchen area. Loki stood uncertainly as Lady Eleanore focused on the pan in front of her, humming softly.

“Hand me some plates?” she requested, pointing to a set of cupboards to her right. It was another request, but Loki went along with it. If he seemed compliant, she could drop her guard. 

There were several types of plates stacked on top of each other on the bottom shelf, with glasses and bowls of differing sizes taking up the top two racks. Loki selected the medium-sized platters, taking two and placing them on the counter beside her before he backed out of the kitchen. He wanted to be further away, both for comfort and ease of observation.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him, folding a circle of eggs in half and placing it on one of the plates. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I put in just a little bit of everything.”

“My compliments,” Loki nodded politely, taking the plate and smelling the combination of cheese, peppers, mushrooms, and meat that were folded inside the meal. He chose to sit at the counter on the stool that faced the front door, taking a bite and raising his eyebrows to show he thought it was acceptable. Contemplation began as he considered how best to find out her abilities. 

“Was the bed long enough?” she asked, breaking the silence. She was not looking at him, instead serving a half-circle onto a plate and retrieving another from the cupboard. 

“It was,” Loki nodded, swallowing the last of his meal. He did feel pleasantly full, and it was not the most repulsive food he’d ever eaten. 

“You’re so tall, I figured your toes might sick out from under the blankets,” she smiled conspiratorially, and Loki gave a half grin at the attempted joke.

“Normal height, for—” he trailed off. He’d been about to say Asgard, but he remembered that he wasn’t from there.

“Yeah, Thor is huge too.” He flinched at the mention of his not-brother. It had been difficult enough to see Thor for the first time on the plane and cliffs, remembering the traitorous elder prince and Loki’s own fall from glory. Loki hoped he would stay on Asgard, away from him, because Midgard was miserable enough without his constant hopeful attitude and brazen voice.

Lady Eleanore was gazing at him in concern, and Loki felt his ire stir. “You are letting your breakfast burn.”

“Shit,” she gingerly shoveled it onto the plate and used the series of knobs in front of her to cease the flames on the stove. “Omlette status: only singed.” She placed a lid over both the plates and started fiddling with a machine, putting dark brown powder into a white paper container and pouring water into the vessel in the back. Flipping a switch, she reached above her head and got three mugs down. Loki had seen such things in his first visit to Midgard, the ceramic handles a part of Loki’s memory of telling Thor Odin was dead.

“So,” she leaned against the counter as the water in the machine began to boil. “Mentioning Thor is a problem, huh?”

Direct. Loki smiled to hide his surfacing anger. “I take less issue with it than with you reading my thoughts.” He kept his expression calm, his voice even. 

“What?” she looked confused. “I don’t read your thoughts.”

“Liar,” he rebutted, stating it as a fact. “I heard you.”

“On the helicarrier?” he nodded, and she understood, holding up a finger, pointing out his memory. “Oh, I can only read your emotions, not your thoughts.”

“Emotions?” Loki was confused, checking through his memories. “You only inferred, then, that I was listening.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, like this was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Who taught you such vague magic?” He wasn’t angry anymore, thrown off again into curiosity. 

“It’s not magic,” she was looking at him as though he was mentally incompetent. “Oh, you don’t know about mutants?”

“Evidently not,” Loki waited for her to explain, thinking the word could better be applied to the grotesque visage of a Frost Giant than to the normal-looking woman standing before him.

Her expression cleared, her eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “It’s a new type of human. Evolutionary leap forward— our… gene structure? It’s different. Does that make sense?” Loki nodded once, following her terminology with relative ease. The Allspeak was useful for direct translation, and although he had learned the basics of the human’s seemingly predominant English, he still reverted to the magical gift of translation for unfamiliar words. “Okay. So our genes are different. There aren’t very many of us yet. But those of us that exist, we have abilities. Like my water thing, and the empathic tendencies. And the healing.”

“Your… ‘water thing.’ Not magic?” Loki thought otherwise, no matter what she said. Innate or not, it was manipulation of energy and form, something that took years to master with a skilled teacher.

“Not magic. At least not like you have,” Lady Eleanore gestured to him. The machine began spurting brown liquid into the clear container, emitting a bitter but pleasant smell.

“I see,” was all Loki said. In his now-private thoughts, he was thinking of ways to test her, and possibly to observe her as she accomplished these feats. He did not know healing, had never truly learned it. Perhaps this different form of the ancient practice would prove a quicker study.

The handle of the door turned behind her, admitting the Captain. The man caught Loki’s eye and nodded a greeting, smiling when he met the Lady’s gaze. 

“Omlettes, Steve,” she hailed him, holding out a plate and a blue mug of the steaming brew. The Captain set his mug down and ate standing up. “Loki, do you want coffee?”

Storing those terms for later use, Loki nodded. She handed him a plain white cup, and he took a tentative sip. It was  very bitter and dark-tasting, but the heat was agreeable on his throat that was still a bit sore from panicked gasping. 

“Sugar or creamer?” she offered a tan container that read  Caramel Macchiato,  and another filled with white granules. Loki tried a bit of both, stirring them in with his fork, since he didn’t know where to get something else, and tried the sweetened beverage. He liked it much better that way. He added more sugar and mentally pronounced it good.

Lady Eleanore stole the containers back from him and added each to her own drink. “So,” she turned back to the two men, placing her plate on the counter and taking the stool across from Loki, “Darren said to show up around eight. Clint and Natasha won’t be there today.” Loki knew that last addition was for him, meant to ruin his hopes of goading Barton into revenge.

“We taking a plane?” Rogers asked, putting his empty plate in the sink. 

“Well, actually,” the Lady glanced across at Loki as he took a drink, “he said to ask if you’d take us there.”

Loki raised his eyebrows over the rim of the mug. This younger Stark seemed to know a lot about him, for all Loki could not even place his features. He set his coffee down and appraised the people in front of him. “How far away from the city are we?”

“Four hours by car,” Lady Eleanore answered promptly. “If you don’t want to take us, we could ask for a plane. We’d just be late.”

“The dragon as well?” Loki looked around and met the beast’s gaze calmly.

“No, I thought he’d like to fly on his own.” The dragon-in-dog-form snorted in apparent agreement, and walked toward the door. The Captain let him out, and he padded up the stairs. “We’ve got him cleared with air traffic control now, at least.” Lady Eleanore turned back to Loki, waiting for an answer. Rogers, too, seemed interested in what he would say.

Loki considered them, noting that they were giving him the option to say no. It was probably a test. If he was going along with his previous plan of amiable acquiescence, he would agree. However, he was not a pack horse, and he was still tired. The sleep from the night before had not been restful, even though he could not remember what had plagued him. Shifting through the spaces would not take much energy, though, especially since he knew of a good landing place. 

“I will attempt it.” He nodded, noting with pleasure the look of uncertainty that crossed the Captain’s face. “When shall we begin?”

“Not for a while,” Lady Eleanore seemed unperturbed by Loki’s ambiguous answer. “Steve, we should work on our proposals.”

“I’ll grab my computer,” the Captain left and walked to his own door, opening it and entering, returning a moment later.

Loki picked up his own plate and placed it in the sink, thinking it was the observed custom. He got his coffee and went over to the brown leather chair, picking up a book labeled  World History: Abridged from the shelf, and giving Lady Eleanore a questioning glance. She waved him on as she entered her own room, so he settled back and opened it, trying to find the last time he’d visited Midgard and what had happened since.

Rogers returned and took Loki’s place at the counter, opening a small portable computer, and Eleanore joined him with a similar device of her own. Loki’s attention was divided between the pages and their conversation.

“So, want to share a document with me through our email?” the Captain asked, sounding proud for some reason. Loki figured it was something he had recently learned, having thawed a scant fortnight before.

“Good thinking,” the Lady grinned at him, and they settled to typing silently for a time. Loki glanced at the clock:  Seven . It had not been very long since he’d awoken to his first day as a prisoner, and he was already calmly allowing these mortals access to his power for their own convenience. He felt his anger rise, but he did not wish to start a fight, not at this point. He knew they were trying to pay courtesy to him, giving him choices. While that necessity irked him, he did not want their understanding to disappear, driven away by his untimely confrontations. Thor never thought before he fought. Loki would  not lower himself to that level of idiocy.

“Darren says he’s got our suits repaired,” Lady Eleanore commented, looking up at the Captain, who nodded. She looked over at Loki, “Sorry, we’re almost done.”

“I await your leisure,” he responded, willing the edge of sarcasm away. It still came through, but she grinned at it. Perhaps she was not so easily offended as other women on Asgard were.

The morning light shifted slowly as half an hour passed in peace. Loki learned that the Norsemen had actually been the first to settle the continent on which he currently resided.  That must have happened after they stopped coming from everywhere to worship Thor. Memories of squalid huts, muddy tracks, and stunted people covered in furs and dirty fabric surfaced. They had been so eager to believe in the righteousness of Thor, and apparently had labeled Loki the Trickster after they’d left. That was enough to make him want to go back and blow up those stick-and-mud constructions they called lodges, and the rickety canoes they used to sail.

“Okay,” Lady Eleanore stood, closing her computer. The Captain did the same, turning to face Loki with apprehension writ clear on his face. 

Loki stood and gave them each a mischievous grin. “I must warn you, this new magic placed on me may interfere with our trip. If we land in midair, just try to find a soft landing spot.”

The Captain frowned, looking him over from a safe distance. Loki held out his hand, and the man hesitantly took it in an imitation of the normal gesture of greeting humans used.

Lady Eleanore rolled her eyes and shook her head with a smile, planing her hand on top of theirs. “That’s very funny.” 

“I live to entertain,” Loki pulled them through the dimensions without warning, and in an instant they were on the jutting balcony of Stark Tower, overlooking the carnage only a few hours had wrought on the city below.

The Captain blanched imperceptibly, his hand tightening as he swayed. Lady Eleanore actually grabbed Loki’s forearm as the vertigo that usually accompanied such journeys hit her full-force. Looking around at the empty air surrounding them, she slowly lowered herself to kneel on the floor, and he let her use his arm for support. Loki was long since used to the effects, and his stomach barely shifted as he bit back a laugh at their condition. Earth’s mightiest heroes reduced to trembling messes by a perfectly safe transportation.

“Holy shit,” a voice yelled through the broken window. It was the elder Stark, the confrontational one. Loki steeled himself for more personal jabs, preparing to answer them with subtle attacks of his own.

“Hey Tony,” Lady Eleanore called, waving from her position on the ground. The Captain let go of Loki and reached down to lift her back up. They steadied each other and led the way into the building with cautious steps. 

“You guys okay?” Banner asked, meeting them at the door. He looked Loki over, then turned his attention to the mortals. 

The Captain brushed him off, and Lady Eleanore shook her head. “We’re fine,” they said in unison.

“My apologies,” Loki said, putting just the right amount of condescension and concern into his tone. “I should have warned you about the side effects.”

“It’s fine,” Lady Eleanore grinned shakily at him .”Thanks for bringing us.” The Captain nodded his agreement, running a hand down his face.

Once again, her reaction was unexpected. Loki was used to anger over such matters, directed from Thor to himself with no filter, and usually mixed with violence. She seemed genuinely grateful, and the Captain did not look at him with the scorn he’d worn in their first meeting.

“Well, if you’re not going to puke,” Stark strode over, holding out a shoulder pack on one hand and a folded blue rectangle with red boots dangling beside it in the other. “Suit up.”

“Got it,” Lady Eleanore grabbed the bag from him, and the Captain took the blue material, unfurling it into the brightly-colored suit that went with his name. He left to get dressed, walking down a hallway and into through a panel that opened as he approached it. 

Stark handed the Lady a stiff, gray metal bracelet, and she put it on, punching a combination of buttons until the pack unfolded and molded to her body in a series of mechanical movements. When it was finished, her face was hidden by a helmet, and she was covered in a shifting pattern of metallic scales that changed from violet to muted silver in the light. Loki hadn’t seen her in combat, not up close, and he took the opportunity to examine the armor. 

“Where’s Darren?” Lady Eleanore asked, her voice taking on a metal tone through the helmet.

“He’s down—” Stark began, pointing over his shoulder.

“I’m right here,” the young man breathlessly interrupted his father, jogging into the room with another bag that matched the colors of Eleanore’s suit. “Here, new med kit.” He handed the pack over to the Lady, who picked it up and folded back her helmet, kissing him on the cheek.

“Thank you!” she set the bag on the floor and started sorting through it, pulling out various plastic-wrapped packages and replacing them almost immediately. “This looks great.” She slung the pack over her shoulders, and it sat flush against her back, barely inhibiting movement.

“Used your old one as a reference.” The younger Stark smiled and looked up to meet Loki’s gaze. “Hey, good morning.”

“Good morning,” Loki returned the greeting, narrowing his eyes as recognition sat just below the surface of his thoughts.

“You probably don’t remember,” Darren began, and Loki realized the name was throwing him off. He’d never met anyone with the name Darren or Stark before, he knew for certain. “But I met you a long time ago. When I was a kid.” 

Loki’s eyes widened as the features finally clicked. Those eyes, the magic, the friendly tone. “Janna’s son.” The little boy who was lost on Court Day around fifteen Midgardian years before. 

Loki had been attending meetings all morning, and he welcomed the late afternoon break that preceded the night of feasting. After so many hours spent pretending to care, listening to the vague, petty concerns of the various ambassadors from every realm except Midgard and Jotunheim, he was ready for a quiet escape in his own quarters. He paused and waited to ensure no one was around to see him, then slipped quietly into one of the many secret passages that lined the walls of the castle.

It was as he climbed the narrow, dark staircase that Loki became aware of a shuffling somewhere far above him. He silenced his steps and crept up until he could clearly discern a set of quick breaths and halting footsteps directly in front of him. He raised his hand and let a burst of light tear through the tunnel, steeling his eyes in case of an immediate attack.

The light revealed a tiny child, who froze with a startled yelp. Large brown eyes, dark curly hair, Vanir clothing and bearing. He looked up at Loki in alarm, one small hand holding onto the bricks beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked, taking a moment to gentle his tone and searching the child for magic. There was a slight shimmer of the talent around him, but he was not actively using it. 

“I was waiting outside the room, and I leaned on the wall into the dark.” The boy turned to fully face him, eyes searching Loki’s face in a trusting, grateful manner.

Loki knelt on the step and smiled amiably. “You fell into a secret passage,” he explained. “Now, what is your name? Who are your parents?” Courtiers frequently brought older children along, but one this young was a novelty. 

“My mom says not to tell,” the boy whispered, looking down and away. Loki appraised him and saw no lie, only a desire to obey his secretive mother. An illegitimate child would not be brought to court, no matter how close the mother felt to him. He made an interesting mystery.

“Well, does she know you are lost?” he asked. If the boy would not tell him directly, Loki could try other methods. “Was she in the meetings?”

“Yes.”

“Is she from Asgard? Or Alfheim?” The boy was clearly raised on Vanaheim, but if Loki could get him talking he might reveal which family he was from. Correcting an older person was also a good way to get a child to speak.

The boy’s gaze met Loki’s in a deeply intelligent, searching manner. “That’s telling.”

“Alright,” Loki chuckled, delighted with the lad’s cunning. “Come with me. We will find her together.” He stood and held out his hand, and the boy took it. They ascended the staircase together, pausing a moment before emerging into the royal hallway where Thor and Loki’s suites sat side by side. 

Loki led the child into his chambers and rang the bell for his personal manservant. They waited together in Loki’s study, the boy looking up and around at the collection of curious items Loki had brought back from his travels. 

“My prince,” Espen entered with a bow. The older, burly man paused when he caught sight of the child, and gave Loki a questioning glance.

“Espen, please ask around discreetly and find out which of the female courtiers is missing a child.” Espen had been assigned to Loki when the two young princes had moved out of the nursery and into their own chambers. Loki knew he would keep a secret.

“Yes, my prince.” Espen left, and silence descended on the room once more.

“Here,” Loki knew it might be hours before Espen could find the boy’s mother, so they had some time to kill. He handed down a set of light stone practice staffs, unique to the Svartalf race. They were far too big for the child, so he only took one and stood it on end. It was over twice as tall as he was.

“Thank you,” the boy said politely, staring at the designs inscribed in circles around the staff. He did not seem overly interested, placing it back in Loki’s hand when the man reached for it.

“Is there something that draws your interest?” Loki asked, replacing the staffs on their rack. 

The boy pointed to a willow wand, which was a traditional healing instrument of the Alfs. “That one has magic on it.”

“Yes it does,” Loki looked at the child with a new appreciation. The seeing of castings was a special talent, one that took a long time to learn if the student were not predisposed. “Are you learning magic?”

“I can do this,” the boy raised his hand and a small vine grew, woven from the light in the room and laden with tiny flowers.

“That is an impressive illusion,” Loki congratulated him. It was truly nothing more than a beginner’s spell, but he was not about to criticize one so young.

“Can you do lights?” the child asked, looking at Loki’s hands.

“Why yes,” Loki pulled another glowing orb from the air and knelt to the child’s level. 

The boy passed his hand through it, apparently forgetting his manners in a surge of interest. “How do you do that?”

“It’s a bit like your illusion. Pulling energy from the air,” Loki explained, preparing himself for the loss of interest that usually accompanied a magical explanation. The boy just stared at him with those dark eyes, his brow furrowed with thought. “Would you like me to teach you?” It would be simple enough, Loki thought, to show him the rudiments of such a casting. 

The boy’s eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly, smiling for the first time since Loki had met him. Loki returned the grin and settled onto the floor. The boy sat as well, eyes fixed on Loki’s face.

They spent the next hour or so in a teaching-learning exchange that was held just as much interest for Loki as it seemed to hold for the boy. Loki had never taught anyone else magic, and he was used to people ridiculing it, turning away from spells he’d spent years perfecting with looks of scorn and derision. The boy’s enthusiasm was refreshing. 

He was a quick study, too. Loki only had to explain the basics before they were trying out the summons and perfecting form. Not a prodigy, but certainly very talented.

A knock in the door interrupted the lesson, and Loki rose before he said, “Come in.”

“Dag,” a woman appeared, blond and blue-eyed, but with the same intelligent gaze as her son. Loki recognized her as one of the main questioners at the meetings. She’d been asking about how history was taught on Asgard, in comparison to the other major realms. Such topics were deemed less important than ones about statecraft and warrior training, so after a few attempts she had fallen silent.

“Hi Mom,” the boy answered, leaping up and showing her the orb in his hand. Loki stared at him, never having heard that term used before.  Mom… Mother?  He discarded it as a rare or new term from Vanaheim.

The woman smiled at her son, Dag, and knelt to observe his new skill. “Incredible,” she congratulated him, and he beamed at her. Then, apparently remembering her surroundings, the woman straightened and curtsied deeply. “Thank you so much for your kindness, Your Majesty.” 

“Not at all,” Loki inclined his head as she stood back up, taking her son’s hand. “He has some talent.”

“He does,” she agreed. Loki was surprised by her confidence. Women, even non-Asgardians, usually simpered a good deal when a member of royalty paid them or their relatives a compliment. 

“May I ask your name?” Loki was curious. She was not a member of any major family, or at least not a high-ranking Vanir one. But she must have connections in order to attend the courts of Asgard.

“Jana Gjurddaughter,” the woman replied, “of Vanaheim. I serve on the teacher’s council.”

“I recall your questions from the meetings,” Loki nodded. The boy was still working on his spell, making the orb grow brighter and dimming it down. Loki decided not to ask after the lad’s father, despite his curiosity. He understood the wish to keep some things secret. It was one reason he’d never shown Thor some of the most secret passageways through the castle.

The bell sounded, warning those preparing that the feast would soon begin. 

“Well, thank you,” Jana said again, looking toward the door. It would be rude of her to leave without Loki dismissing them.

“Enjoy the rest of your stay on Asgard.” He played the part of dutiful prince once more, readying himself for the ruckus of the feasting hall.

“We will, Your Majesty,” Jana curtsied once more and turned to go. 

“Bye,” Dag waved over his shoulder as he followed his mother from the room.

Loki had not forgotten about that incident. It was such a short time ago, he’d forgotten that the little boy would have grown up into the young man standing before him.

“Yep, Jana’s son.” Darren smiled. The Captain joined them, his hooded helm folded back to display his face, his shield strapped to his back. “Darren is my real name, though.”

“Half-mortal,” Loki was still reeling as the realizations kept flooding in. He looked from Stark to his son, seeing similarities to both parents well evident in everything Darren did, said, expressed. “So secretive… for good reason.”

“Yeah,” Darren shrugged. “She didn’t think Asgard was ready for such an exotic mix.”

Loki had to agree. Before he’d visited Thor during his banishment, he had only seen Midgard as a backward realm still digging their way out of the mud. Truly, they had only advanced in the past two hundred years, and they still had so far to go to even compare to Asgard. The little boy would have been viewed as an oddity in the best of circumstances, and an abomination in the worst.

The dragon landed on the balcony and sat looking in at them “Okay, looks like everyone’s here,” Lady Eleanore checked her watch and looked around. They had only been at the Tower for a few minutes, but Loki could see the dust starting to rise from the reconstruction and demolition that were taking place side by side.

“Let’s get started,” the Captain took charge, and the people around him straightened like soldiers awaiting their marching orders. “We’ll head down and see what needs doing. Stark, do they know we’re coming?”

“Considering we’ve been helping them out the past few days, yes.” The elder Stark replied, pressing his wristband in a familiar motion. The wall opened, revealing the red and gold suit, along with the charcoal one that Darren wore. Both were in perfect condition, clearly repaired from the battle. They dissembled and formed around their owners, clanking together with metallic finality. 

“We’ll meet you down there,” the Captain hailed them as they took off through the broken window, leaving a faint trail of smoke in the air. “Elle, you going with Jet?”

“Yep,” she nodded, her helmet taking shape around her face as she turned and jogged into the morning sunlight. Leaping onto the dragon, she settled between its spikes. The beast unfurled its wings and they tipped over the precipice, gliding away and down between the city’s spires.

“I’m running the clinic down in the lobby,” Banner said, heading toward the elevator. “You guys want a ride down?”

“Sure,” the Captain inclined his head at Loki, who followed without a word. 

The elevator was silent, awkwardly so. The three men—  two disguised monsters and an experiment, really—  stood as far apart as they could get, and Loki did not look at either of the other two.

“So… how was your first night?” Banner asked as they descended. Loki wondered if they would all attempt this friendly banter, and how long it would take for them to give up.

“Restful,” he lied, tone deferential, glancing down at the floor.

“That’s good.”Another minute of silence, and the doors opened with a  ding , admitting them into organized chaos.

Banner stepped around Loki and walked up to a team clad in obnoxiously bright yellow, speaking rapidly in low tones. All around were makeshift beds and benches upon which sat minorly injured humans who were attended by people in uniforms of bright colors or drab tones of gray and green. Everyone halted and stared at Loki, and he felt an uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, sense of importance.

“Captain America!” a little girl shrieked, running straight past Loki’s legs and grabbing Rogers by the hand. It took Loki a moment more to realize that the people were staring at their hero, not the plainly dressed villain in their midst. Most of them had not even seen him during the battle, might not be aware he was even a part of it. He was a shadow again as Rogers smiled down at the child and greeted her warmly.

“What are you doing here?” the girl asked, her red curls waving as she tugged the gloved hand. “There’s no bad guys.”

“I’m going to help clean up outside,” the Captain explained.

“Our house got messed up, but my mom says they’re going to fix it.” Said mother rushed around Loki and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Honey, we have to let Captain America go do his job.” The woman looked tired, careworn. No obvious injury was evident, but when Loki looked in the direction she’d come from he saw a man lying on a bed with severe burns on his arm and face. “Let’s go back to Daddy.”

“Mooooom,” the girl moaned, hanging her head. 

“Sorry about this,” the woman ignored her as the Captain transferred the girl’s hand to hers. “You’re her— well, our— hero.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rogers was the perfect gentleman: practiced, calm, and humble in the face of praise. He even blushed, for Bor’s sake.

Loki rolled his eyes and headed for the front entrance as a flash of orange scales and violet armor moved by the glass. Rogers bid hasty goodbyes and followed him out the revolving doors and into the morning sunlight. 

“Hey,” Lady Eleanore greeted them from behind her helmet. “There’s a big building that still needs to be swept a couple blocks away. They’re requesting you, Steve, and whoever you want to bring. The rubble is almost cleared, so they’re doing a search for civilians.” The two Starks landed beside the dragon, who was watching Loki as usual.

“Right,” Rogers listened to the report, his expression solemn. “Elle, Jet, Loki, you’re with me. Darren, Tony, you go wherever they need heavy lifting, and do fly bys to direct rescue units to the most important places.” He looked around and found no dissenters. 

“Here,” Darren stepped forward, holding out his hand. Rogers took a small ear piece and put it on. “Loki?” the young man offered one to him.

“And why would I need this primitive magic?” Loki asked disdainfully. He noted that Rogers gave him a surprised look, and Eleanore’s body language communicated astonishment as well. 

“To communicate with the rest of the team,” the Captain told him, raising an eyebrow at Loki’s expression. 

The rest of the team, indeed. If Rogers was so quick to accept him, Loki could only imagine how poor his other decisions must fare. And he was their  leader. It was a wonder they stopped the Chitauri at all.

“Loki,” the Lady’s voice warned. He sighed and placed the plastic device in his ear, already planning to ‘lose’ it later on.

“Great. Move out.” Rogers dismissed them, and the Starks flew away. Eleanore walked with them as the dragon padded silently behind.

They made their way to a husk of a building with blasted out windows and twelve floors. The rubble that had been cleared was from one of the large Chitauri vessels that had crashed into several buildings that lined the block. The beast was cut apart and hauled away in pieces, still blocking the entrances to the structures on either side.

Loki could see why they were sending the Captain in for surveillance: the supports had been damaged and barely held up the mass of manufactured stone and glass. Normal humans would not survive if it collapsed, so of course the hero would volunteer his own life and the lives of his friends.  So very like Thor.

They spoke to the commanders of the rescue team. This group seemed to be a part of Midgard’s army, dressed in the checkered, faded colors that allowed them to blend into the dusty cityscape. They reported no signs of life from the buildings, but they wanted a visual confirmation before they began demolition.

Rogers halted as they began to approach the building. “Elle, Loki, you want to wait out here?”

“Nope,” Lady Eleanore answered for both of them. Loki did not much care, but having the Captain and Lady in the same location would make his ‘protection’ duties vastly simpler.

Rogers sighed, “That’s what I thought.” They started off again, reaching the crumbled entrance and stepping over uncleared debris.

“That building is in rough shape, ” reported a tinny version of Darren’s voice through their communication devices. Looking up, Loki saw him streaking around a corner and over their heads.  “Stay away from windows.”

“Got it,” Rogers told him, looking ahead into the gloom of a powered-down cavern. “Anyone got a flashlight?”

“I didn’t see one in my bag. I’ll add it later,” Lady Eleanore looked at Loki. “Think you could…”

Without a word, Loki raised his hand and the familiar ball of white light shimmered into existence. It floated in front of them as they continued into the building, casting shadows in sharp relief.

“Thanks,” the Lady nodded at him, and he did not respond. Better to obey the simple requests than to turn them into crippling commands.

“This will go faster if we split up,” Rogers looked to each of them in turn, pulling up his helmet hood.  So much for simple protection. Loki directed two more orbs to track their movements, and the Captain gave him an appreciative look. “Thanks. I’ll take the bottom four levels, Loki you take the middle four, and Elle you’re up top. Stay in contact and ask for help if you need it.” This last was directed at both Loki and the Lady, who shrugged and started for the stairs. 

And so it went. The building held no life, only desks and papers scattered around burnt floor tiles and foul-smelling fried electronics. There were no bodies on the floors Loki checked, and he did look thoroughly, moving quickly to the corners of each room to ensure that he missed nothing. The occupants must have had time to evacuate before the Chitauri landed here.

“All clear on the fourth floor,” the Captain’s voice spoke up from Loki’s ear just as he was heading back to the stairs.  “What’s your status?” 

Loki decided to deliver his report in person, transporting himself directly behind the Captain and making him jump. “My floors were clear as well,” he divulged as the man looked him over and found no threat.

“Nothing.”  Lady Eleanore reported.  “I’m about done on Twelve. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Copy that,” Rogers and Loki walked down the stairs and into the open air once more. The Lady soon joined them, her helmet covering her face and masking the sound of her approach.

The next building had been opened up, and they continued down the block in the same manner. Loki found the work tedious but simple. Loki provided light, and the two mortals refrained from ordering him around. Occasionally a mortal worker would get injured by shifting debris, and Lady Eleanore would halt her search to go and heal them, leaving Loki and Rogers to scope out the rest of the floors. The Captain seemed not to mind this, although he gave her searching glances whenever she returned. Loki had no idea what he was looking for; the sorceress looked exactly the same every time, helmet covering her face and rendering it expressionless. Rogers himself often helped to remove moderate amounts of detritus, often enlisting Loki’s help with a particularly large slab. Loki did not mind the physical work as much as he’d expected, as it gave his mind something to focus on other than its circular pattern of frustration, despair, and rage.

The dragon worked with the humans, moving rubble more quickly and precisely than the machines could ever hope to. Intermittent information would flow through from the Starks and Banner, reporting progress on a specific site or the completion of a troublesome patient’s care. The trio Loki was part of stopped for a quick lunch together, eating in silence as the rescue workers moved around them to clear more and more space. Loki did not speak throughout the day, except to answer questions directed at him, and sometimes not even then. He had no desire to form friendships with his captors.

Some of the buildings groaned from time to time, but they all remained standing well past their inhabitance. There were no human bodies to find, but Loki recognized the evidence of deaths in the singed outlines of victims left on the walls and floor. Chitauri were rotting and left alone to be demolished with the rest of the wreckage. Loki felt no sympathy: they were a hive mind, and the workers had no more spirit or honor than the flies that buzzed around their corpses.

Hours passed, and the angle of the sun was well westward when they encountered what would be one of their last projects for the day.  This one should have been first , Loki thought, surveying its creaking mass. It was quite tall at thirty floors, which accounted for its instability. As Loki understood it, several Chitauri hovercraft had exploded in the ground floor’s parking lot, while one of the large ships had landed on top of the building as it died, then rolled off.

The Captain looked concerned as well, but he led them inside with a sigh. Loki was the only one using his magic lighting, as the mortals had gotten electric torches from the people in drab uniforms who Eleanore had called the ‘National Guard.’ Apparently this was not the same as the Einherjar, but Loki had not asked for specifics.

“Same as the last ones,” Rogers informed them. “Elle you’ve got the top ten, Loki the middle, and I’ve got the ground.”

They split up, Loki beginning on the nineteenth floor and working his way down. There were many more burn marks and human deaths in this building, probably because of the height and the limited evacuation availability combined with the Chitauri jumping through the windows unexpectedly. There was nothing to speak of, and he heard no differing reports through the device in his ear. He was in the middle of the thirteenth floor when a huge crash sounded from outside, and the entire structure shook and started to crumble.

“Get out now! They’re wrecking the other end of the block!” The Captain sounded panicked as Loki heard crumbling and groaning through the headset.  “This whole place is going down!”

“ Got it,”  Lady Eleanore replied breathlessly. A moment of silence, and Loki was about to transport himself away when, “ Oh my god, there’s someone alive up here.”

Loki teleported to her location immediately, feeling along their connection until he found himself standing in front of a collapsed doorway under which a man was trapped. Lady Eleanore was digging frantically at the pieces of stone around him, but there were heavier metal bars to worry about further in. The man was half awake and mumbling something about blue fire.

“ I’m on my way up, ” the Captain reported, resigned and frantic. 

“I have them,” Loki used his device for the first time that day. “You will not reach us in time. Get out of the building.”

“Listen to him, Steve!” Lady Eleanore yelled, still scrabbling frantically. “Loki will get us out of here.” The building shook again and began listing to one side, plaster and dust falling from the ceiling. Loki rushed forward and grabbed both people by the arms, pulling them to the safest nearby place he could think of: Stark Tower’s damaged entertainment room.

As soon as they landed, the man started screaming. Loki only registered the sound at first before he noticed the streams of blood that were coming from both his legs and sinking into the cracks in the floor.

“Shit,” Eleanore leapt around and tried to still the flailing limb that was broken in at least five places. The other was less damaged, but still gushing red. Loki’s stomach turned as she sat on the man’s thigh and held his leg down. He would not stop screaming.

Silver light began pouring from the Lady’s hand, and the magic crunched the bones back into place. Then the blood slowed and finally stopped as fresh muscle and skin flowed over it in quick succession.

“You guys alright? ” the Captain’s voice sounded strained through the ear piece. 

“We are unharmed,” Loki turned away from the man as Lady Eleanore placed a bloody gloved hand on his head and slid him into unconsciousness.

“ Where did you go?”

“The Tower.” He realized he could have just as well taken them to a place where rescue for the man was more likely, but it had been a hasty decision.

“Can you get Elle back down here? Arm’s busted and it’s already healing wrong.”

“Bruce, send up a stretcher and a couple paramedics. Severe dehydration and trauma, possible shock.” Lady Eleanore spoke professionally as she came up beside Loki, whisking the blood from her armor’s scales. She looked up at him through her visor and reached out her hand, letting it hover as a question between them. 

Loki sighed and took her back to the Captain’s location. When they got there, he was surrounded by the two Starks and a medical team, all of whom were trying unsuccessfully to help. The dragon loomed quietly behind them.

“He’s healing already. We can’t even break it,” one of the medics informed them as they stepped back to allow the Lady through. Rogers was standing, holding his arm awkwardly against his side, a blank expression on his face. Loki stayed outside the group, watching intently.

“Okay, everyone stand back a little,” Lady Eleanore took charge, spreading her arms like protective wings. “Steve? Look at me.” He complied, his eyes glassy. “Good. Now, go ahead and sit down.” Obedience again, with a wince. “Darren.”

The younger Stark approached, kneeling at her side. “Right here?” He pointed to a concealed spot on the arm, confirming his target.

“Yeah, right now.” Her voice was tense. “Steve, this is going to hurt for a minute.”

“I’m fine. Go ahead,” Rogers’ breath was uneven as he let his arm hang limp. It was bent the wrong direction halfway between the wrist and the elbow.

“No warning,” Darren grabbed the Captain’s forearm in his hand and waited just a moment before cracking the bones apart. Rogers gasped and pulled away, but the metal hands of the elder Stark were there, holding him still.

Lady Eleanore slid closer and placed her hands over the injury, her magic glowing through the onset of twilight. The human medics watched in amazement as the bone visible knitted together, leaving the Captain sighing in relief and the arm just like new.

“Where can I get some of that medicine?” one of them joked clapping a hand to their vehicle and leaning against it. The rest of the crew laughed, and the atmosphere lightened a great deal. 

Rogers rose slowly, and Darren pulled Eleanore up beside him. 

“Let’s head back to the Tower,” Stark suggested, his red and gold suit flashing as he turned to fly away. “Cap, want a ride?”

“I’ll walk, thanks.” Rogers looked at both Starks and Loki, confirming he didn’t need their help. The Tower was not far away. They’d worked their way around it through the course of the day.

Seeing as no one was asking him for transport, Loki took a step and regained his footing on the cracked floor of the Tower once more. This meant he was there when the Lady Eleanore returned on dragonback, and he could see her stumble off, legs shaking, struggling to stand. He watched as she wearily patted her magical pet on the snout, then made her way inside. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Delayed reaction.” Was her explanation. Her helmet folded back and revealed a pale, gaunt face much like that of the trapped man she had healed. She dropped her medical pack on the ground and sat cross-legged, rooting through the bag until she unearthed bottles of water. 

“Holy crap, Elle,” Darren’s suit flew off in pieces as he landed, walking briskly to sit beside his lover. “Wait, I’ll get you some food.” He leapt to his feet again and raced out of the room.

“Paging Doctor Banner,” Stark landed soon after his son, but he remained inside his armor. “We have a lovely young patient up here who overdid it today—”

“No, Tony, I’m fine.” Eleanore waved him off. “I just need some rest, there’s nothing Bruce can do about it.”

“Doctor Banner is accompanying Captain Rogers to this level, Sir.” A cultured voice rang from the walls, making Loki jump and look around in surprise. He was  not afraid, just caught off guard.

Still, Stark laughed at him, which roused Loki’s dormant anger from its resting place in the back of his mind. 

“It’s called Jarvis,” Lady Eleanore explained, drawing his attention back to her. “It’s an acronym for ‘Just A Very Intelligent System.’ He’s a computer program that Tony designed to run the building.”

“Among other things,” Stark agreed.

“Here we go,” Darren returned from down the hall, carrying several rectangularly packaged edibles in his hands. He handed two to Eleanore and threw one to his father. “Loki?” he held one out, tossing it when Loki nodded. 

It was stiff, dry, tasting of sweetness and cardboard.  How could mortals survive this? Loki looked around and saw Lady Eleanore already finishing her first one with a satisfied sigh.

“Well, you look awful,” Banner commented as he exited the elevator. The Captain said nothing, only looking concerned as they both approached the woman on the floor. 

Both of his mortal captors, Loki noticed, looked quite weary. The Captain hid it well under excellent posture and a decisive manner, but he was flagging after a day spent in intense physical labor. Loki was pleasantly spent, but if needed he knew he could go another three days on the same pace with no sleep and still function just as well.

“I’d say rest and get plenty of fluids— not just water,” Banner stood from checking on the Lady and looked around. “Gatorade and maybe some juice to replenish what you lost.”

“I’ve got both at my apartment,” Lady Eleanore rose with a shiver and looked kissed Darren on the cheek. “See you tomorrow?”

“Have a good night,” he hugged her, and Loki averted his eyes from the display.

“Loki, could you please take us back home?” her voice was soft, and she did not approach him until he nodded his acquiescence. “Meet you back at our place, Jet.” The dragon turned and flapped away into the night.

The Captain, too, drew near and Loki held out his arm again. They placed their hands on his, and they left the same way they had arrived.

The apartment was dark. The trill of the cat was the only thing that kept Loki from stepping on him as his eyes adjusted first to the blackness, then to the light as the Captain turned on the spindly lamp. Lady Eleanore stumbled over to her gray chair and sank into it gratefully, holding her head in her hands. The effects of such travel were worse on weaker bodies, Loki recalled.

“Here,” the Captain handed him a cold bottle of water, and gave a glass filled with purple liquid to the woman on the chair. He sat on the sofa and leaned back, relaxing imperceptibly. This place had that effect on him, while any time in the public eye was a constant source of tension. Loki was already noticing and learning these things, although he didn’t want to because they were fairly useless in helping him escape. 

He sat down in the brown leather chair and pulled out the history book again, wanting something to ground his thoughts before they could wander. He needed more control, or at least a distraction. That was disconcerting, but he was hoping the effects of the scepter would fade with time, as the Lady had hypothesized. Loki decided not to tell her she was right about his condition, imagining the smug expression such a proclamation would expose. It roused his anger again, and he began inwardly seething, book forgotten in his hand.

“Well, I’m going to go to bed,” the Lady stood slowly and made her way to the bathroom where her movements were silenced by the spell. The Captain and Loki stayed where they were, and Loki did open the book to the correct page, making it through a few sentences about the Eastern Empire before the door opened again and the woman returned to the room.

“Goodnight,” Rogers said, standing as well and making his way to the door. Loki did not reply, and the Lady only waved, filling her empty purple bottle with water from the sink. He left quietly and his door shut across the hall, the lock clicking into place.

Lady Eleanore walked around, feeding the cat and refilling his water, making sure the door was unlocked for the dragon’s return, shutting off the lights in the kitchen, before she headed into her bedroom and closed the door without a word.

Loki rose and placed the book on the arm of the chair, knowing a good night’s sleep was not likely in his future. Still, he turned toward his room and decided to try it. Perhaps such a taxing day would send him into dreamless slumber.

“Hey Loki?” He froze and turned toward the sound of her voice. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing a giant shirt and very short pants that showed most of her legs, hair falling out of its braid, eyes large with exhaustion.

“Yes?” he asked, thinking she had some task or other for him before she retired. It wouldn’t do to let her control go lax just because he’d saved her life, oh no. 

“Thanks for all your help today.” She smiled at him, and he was taken aback. Thanked for everything as it happened, and then again when the day was done. That was new.

“I live to serve, my lady,” Loki went with delicate sarcasm, thinking she might not actually be serious with the gratitude.

“No, I mean it,” she leaned on the door frame and ran a hand through her hair. “You really helped us a lot, and I know you didn’t always want to. So thanks. And please call me by my name.”

“What strategy is this?” Loki asked, narrowing his eyes at her. She was a healer, his mother— Frigga— had said so, and it was true. She was manipulating him, drawing him into a sense of security.

“What? Saying thank you? I do that to everybody.” She looked confused, but Loki didn’t let it fool him. 

“You plan on becoming my friend, is that it?” he scoffed, letting his anger from before translate into his tone. 

“Well I would if you’d let me,” she admitted, cocking her head to one side. “But it seems like you don’t want that right now, so I’ll just stick with treating you like a person.”

“A prisoner, you mean,” Loki wasn’t done. He  knew his place here in this realm, and he would not allow himself to forget it. He’d learned from experience that trying to fit in only led to hardship and heartbreak, with no thanks for rewards in the end.

“No, I know what I meant,” she protested still, and it only made him angrier. “A person. That’s what you are.”

“You know  nothing of what I am!” he hissed, letting his magic seep to the edges of the room to block the sound of their argument. He knew he could not hurt her, but he did not wish the Captain to barge in and side against him as well.

“Asgardian, right? Stronger than humans, you live longer, you’re all smarter than us and you can do magic.” She rolled her eyes and Loki clenched his jaw. “I caught that act from your father.”

Loki snapped, striding across the room to loom over her with his far superior height. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, the top of her head only reaching his shoulder.  Frost Giant, indeed.

“ Not. My. Father.” He spit each word as poison, because they hurt his heart as such.

“What then?” she clung to the door for support, her body weak from the day behind them, and still she challenged him to argue, to disclose. 

What more than that? His own words bit into his mind, along with the despair that went with learning his true, horrible nature. Suddenly, he was again in the weapons vault, staring Odin in the face as he was informed that his royal birthright was isolation and death.

“A monster,” he whispered, coming back to the staring dark brown eyes and the furrowed brow of a mortal witch.

She was looking up at him, understanding dawning over her face. Loki stepped back, realizing how much of himself he’d revealed. There was silence for a long time, and he did not know how to break it, to brush off his emotions and hide them. The skill he’d perfected over the centuries had deserted him in a moment of duress.

“Want some sparkling grape juice?” her voice came through brightly, and he looked up as she walked past him into the kitchen. She got two stemmed glasses from the cupboard, and a glass bottle from the ice box, opening it with a twist and a hiss. Yellow, bubbling liquid filled the glasses, and she turned back to him, handing him one before she sat down.

“Midgardian’s intoxicants have no effect on me,” Loki informed her, sniffing the beverage. The bubbles popped in his nose, and he took an experimental sip, feeling none of the burn that mead or mulled wine usually offered.

“It’s non-alcoholic,” Lady Eleanore explained, sitting back in her chair and tucking her feet in. The cat, who had hidden during their conflict, jumped into her lap and began rumbling away as she scratched its stomach with her free hand.

Loki took another drink and found he liked the taste. He settled into the brown chair stiffly, still feeling awkward from his previous disclosure. 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” Lady Eleanore assured him, setting her glass on the shelf above her head. 

“It is not unpleasant,” Loki held onto his, sipping occasionally as silence once again filled the room. This was different, though, somehow. Perhaps it was the cat’s trilling noises, or the reclined position, or the warm light of the lamp, or any combination of things, but he felt much calmer and more at ease.

“My dad is an asshole, too.” The unexpected revelation came in the middle of a drink, and Loki nearly choked as he looked over to find her staring into the distance. 

“Pardon me?” The insult was not one he would use to describe either Odin or Laufey, but perhaps she put a different meaning to it.

“He’s abusive. Not, like, hitting people, just  mean. It’s psychological, what he does. I never understood it when I was younger, and I still don’t, but now I don’t have to see him very often, so it doesn’t matter as much.” Her voice sounded sad, and she did not look at Loki, gazing instead at the wall across from her.

“What of your mother?” And wasn’t  that the question he would ask? What of the mother? What of Frigga, who still called him her son?

“She’s really nice. I try to act like her more than him.” Eleanore glanced at him and grinned, then reached up and got her glass for a drink. 

“What did he do?” Loki was curious. On such a complex, contradictory realm as Midgard— peaceful, war-torn, aggressive and kind— he couldn’t imagine what sorts of things a parent would ridicule their child for. 

“It was like… I can’t even explain it, it sounds so superficial.” She adjusted her position in the chair, turning to face him. The cat jumped onto the floor, displeased with the disturbance. “It’s not like I wasn’t good enough, because I knew I was smart… But everything I did was wrong? I think? I was so afraid to mess up that I was anxious around him. He’d get mad over the littlest mistakes and guilt me for hours. I’m not exaggerating.”

“I believe you,” Loki assured her, noting the pain in her eyes. She did not volunteer any more information, sinking into a flow of memories and staring past him at the brick wall. Loki didn’t move, thinking of his own experiences. They sounded different. Odin hadn’t gotten angry over small things, but Loki had never felt like he measured up to Thor. It all made sense, once his heritage was made apparent, but it was still troubling.

“I didn’t tell you everything about mutants,” she refocused on him with a frown.

“What did you leave out?” He was amused at the quick change of subject.

“I didn’t try to hide it,” she began, holding up a hand, “I just don’t remember it all the time. Lots of people hate mutants.”

Loki blinked at her, thinking back on all the times she’d used her powers that day. It seemed dangerous in light of this information.

“Not everyone,” Eleanore clarified. “But there’s people who think humans should just be human, no powers or anything.”

“They are threatened,” Loki recognized the meaning behind her words. 

“Yeah, mostly.” She took a long drink and sighed. “So I don’t tell everyone about myself because I don’t know which they are: threatened or okay.”

“I see.” And he did. He still wasn’t going to tell her about being a Frost Giant, though.

They settled into silence once again, both deep in thought. Loki held himself ready for another surprise announcement, but none was forthcoming. They finished their drinks at around the same time, and Eleanore stood and stretched.

“I should really get some sleep,” she glanced at the clock.  Eleven fifteen . “Did you know there are extra blankets in the dresser?”

“I found them,” Loki nodded, placing his glass in the sink, then hers when she handed it over. The kitchen was truly minuscule.

“Okay good. Night,” she waved at him, making her way to her room. 

Loki did not wait for her to reemerge and tell him about her dead sister or some such similar tale. He went into the bathroom and got ready for bed, then went straight into his own room, shutting off the lamp as he passed it by. 

The darkness was calming, and he felt actually tired as he changed his clothing and climbed into bed. He felt sleep descending upon him as soon as he closed his eyes, and for a while he was visited by dreamless rest.

 


	11. Cleaning Up

Steve woke up early from a fitful night of half-remembered nightmares. He sighed as he pulled on his exercise clothes, thankful that Eleanore seemed to have forgotten about that dream journal for the time being. The broken arm yesterday had brought up War memories, and Steve had spent his energy the previous night trying not to feel them too much so Elle wouldn’t suspect anything. The flashbacks rested just beneath the surface of his mind, playing out in front of him whenever he lost focus. One moment he would be walking on the street, standing in Stark Tower, sitting in Elle’s apartment, and the next soldiers would be shouting in French, mud would clog the sewers, men would be burning in front of him as Hydra’s flame throwers and blue weapons claimed their lives. It was only the voices of others or something out of place in his peripheral vision that would center his mind again.

Steve let himself reminisce as he began to run, since there was always something to pull him back into reality. As Captain America, he had actually gotten hurt very seldom, despite the constant danger around him. He’d only been fighting for about a year when he’d crashed, so not much opportunity for injury had presented itself to the most advanced soldier of the time. Thus, the few times he’d gotten hurt in the field stuck out.

Once, on a simple mission against Hydra’s goons, a rock had fallen and broken one of the bones in his leg. The medic splinted it right away, and Steve was up and walking in a couple of hours. For a while after, though, the Commandos had watched him strangely. Bucky said it was because they had forgotten Steve was human, and seeing him get hurt brought it back.

That had been the worst wound he’d gotten in the field, Steve recalled as he ran down the empty sidewalks along quiet residential streets. He used his morning calisthenics to familiarize himself with the neighborhood, doing different routes every day. Today he ran past a small park specially labeled for the use of dog owners about two miles away from home. He finished with weights at the gym and a slow walk back to the apartment building to cool off.

His watch read five thirty when he reached the top of the stairs. Steve checked because a sliver of light was shining from underneath Eleanore’s apartment door. She never got up early if she could help it; Steve had teased her to come for a jog once and had received only rolling eyes and a cheerful scoff in response. 

He walked over and tried the handle, and found it unlocked. 

“Hey,” Eleanore greeted him, looking up from a couch spread with papers and notebooks and texts. She was still in her pajamas — loose T-shirt and shorts— but she’d tied her hair back messily to keep it out of her tired eyes. Without makeup, she looked almost exhausted, the dark circles standing out against her pale skin.  Maybe she didn’t fully recover from last night.

“It’s early,” Steve observed, taking in the rest of the apartment. The warm lamp was on, casting light in different directions. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Jet lay at Elle’s feet, not even bothering to raise his head as Steve approached. Charlie trilled over from underneath the couch, rubbing against Steve’s legs every time he tried to take a step.

“It’s finals week,” Elle informed him, smiling at the kitten. “I got my professors to let me take every test tomorrow, so I’m studying every spare minute I get.”

“That means getting up extra early,” Steve observed, taking a seat in her reading chair and stiffly adjusting as Charlie leapt into his lap immediately and curled up on his arm. The cat rolled over, and Steve tentatively scratched his stomach, and got an appreciative purr and another roll. 

“He likes tummy squibbles,” Elle said, ignoring Steve’s jibe about early mornings, her voice rising into a strange mix of ridiculousness and uncharacteristic pronunciations. 

“I guess,” Steve agreed, grinning a little at the doting she lavished on the cat. “Loki hasn’t showed yet?”

“No, I think he wants some time alone,” she went back to scanning the laptop, her fingers scrolling on the track pad and clicking intermittently.

Steve lapsed into silence, focusing again on the cat in his lap and letting her study in peace. Charlie’s purring, their breathing, and the clacking of the keyboard were the only sounds. Traffic noise hadn’t picked up yet outside the window, and no machines were running, not even the refrigerator. After his night and morning full of painful recollections, this bright peacefulness was more than welcome. Muscles relaxed that Steve hadn’t known were tense, and he could feel his forehead smoothing as he sat back and enjoyed the moment. If there was anything that the War and the past few days had taught him, it was to take every second of peace he could get, to rest up for the fighting.

Of course, it didn’t last long. Charlie jumped as the door to Steve’s left opened, admitting a stone-faced demigod dressed in casual Asgardian attire like the day before. Loki glanced around the room, his eyes lingering questioningly on Eleanore, who grinned at him, before he ignored them and went into the bathroom without a word.

“I should look into getting him some clothes,” Elle muttered, typing again and not looking up. 

Steve sighed, knowing he didn’t need to answer that, and got up to go shower in his own apartment. He gently placed Charlie on the chair, and the cat curled up again, falling asleep almost instantly.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, getting a smile and a nod from Eleanore as he walked out the door.

His own apartment was lifelessly silent, nothing else breathing except for him. It was a relief when the humming of machinery or chirping birds or cars  swooshing past broke the stillness. Steve didn’t linger, stripping without bothering to lock the door and stepping immediately under the cold spray of the shower. It turned warm gradually, and he lathered up and rinsed off in under five minutes. He strapped his old-fashioned—  analog , Elle called it— watch and threw his dirty clothes into the hamper as he walked into his bedroom. He chose a simple outfit for another day of reconstruction: a white T shirt over his uniform’s leggings and boots. He picked up the top part from where it lay on his desk chair in front of his workspace-slash-drafting table and carried it out of the room with him.

Morning light was starting to fade through the blinds, so Steve twisted them open and made his bed with tight corners and clean lines. Once he was satisfied, he walked into the kitchen and looked around in the dark, his eyes adjusting easily. His gaze fell upon the tumbler-cups that sat on an open shelf under his microwave. Eleanore had recommended them for protein shakes. Steve grabbed three of them, then measured the whey powder — peanut butter-chocolate flavored — out in three servings. He emptied his milk carton filling the last container, but he shrugged it off, realizing he needed to go food shopping soon anyway. He shook each tumbler in turn and then carried them out of his apartment, uniform over his arm, locking the door behind him.  I can help with breakfast, at least.

Singing greeted him as he walked into the now-lively apartment. Loki was looking annoyed, sitting in his leather chair and scanning over the same book from the day before. Jet had taken over the couch, and Charlie was dashing about, cockeyed and crazy, zig-zagging around and across everything he could jump onto and push off from. Elle smiled a greeting and started humming instead of singing outright, watching a mushy pan of oatmeal come to a boil, now showered and dressed as well. 

Steve’s feet froze in place as he registered the tune. “I know that song.” Memories of church gatherings with his mother, gentle hymns sung from old dusty books, dim lighting for late night services and early Sunday mornings. Sarah Rogers was a Methodist, but she took her son to both Mass and Protestant services in honor of Steve’s late father, who was Catholic. 

“ It Is Well With My Soul ?” Elle paused and looked him over, assessing his reaction. Steve just nodded, wishing she hadn’t stopped. She wasn’t the best singer in the world, sometimes missing notes or changing key, but her voice was pretty and he liked hearing the old, familiar song sung by someone he knew in this time. Usually he assumed what she sang or hummed was more modern, because he’d never recognized any of it before. “Protein shakes?” she noticed what he was carrying, and reached out, taking one of the tumblers and handing the other one to Loki.

“Thought I’d help cook,” Steve joked, coming back to himself and covering his face with a small smile as the feeling of loss faded away. At least his mom had been gone before he’d gone into the ice. He’d had time to get past it. 

“Thanks, these are great,” Elle took a gulp of hers, then went back to stirring the pot of oatmeal. She started humming again, the same song, and Steve quietly took a seat at the counter, not wanting make her stop. He hung his uniform from his leg to get it out of the way and took a drink of his shake, sinking into the simple music.

After a moment of pure remembrance on Steve’s part, Loki met his gaze, looking between Steve and Eleanore. Steve saw disdain and… something like hatred. Then the demigod went back to reading, avoiding eye contact. Steve watched him after that, the memories fading away as a present threat took over his conscious mind.

“What do you like?” Elle asked, pulling Steve from his observation and drawing his gaze to the steaming bowl she held. 

“I’ll get it,” Steve got up quickly. He didn’t like her serving him, even though he had figured out a while ago that she only did it to keep her kitchen as clean as possible. He got into the spice cupboard and came out with cinnamon and the small container of honey before taking the bowl and retreating back to the island. Charlie ran past, bumping into the corner as he rounded through the bathroom door.

“Cinnamon and sugar okay, Loki?” Elle asked, and Loki just raised an eyebrow and nodded. She put the ingredients into the bowl and handed it over. Then she fixed her own, scraping the last of the oatmeal out of the pan and making her way over to Steve. “My mom always put just brown sugar in mine,” she explained, taking the bag from the counter and settling onto the opposite stool.

“So did you hear that song in church?” Steve asked, halfway through the meal. He was really curious. She’d never talked about religion or beliefs before, except to say she thought Loki should be helped and not punished.

“Yeah, my mom and I used to go. Back in Iowa—” Elle spoke around the oatmeal she’d been chewing, then swallowed. “We both kind of stopped going when we moved here.”

Steve nodded understanding, mentally excusing her for talking with her mouth full. He was getting used to it because she did it all the time. “Methodist?”

“Congregational. But we never really talked much about the doctrine,” she shrugged. “You a Methodist?”

“Kind of,” Steve said, remembering the Masses paired with the more open services. “I went to Mass and Methodist services.”

“Double duty,” Elle raised her eyebrows and smiled. Steve liked how she found nothing unusual about it. Kids in his neighborhood had often questioned his church attendance, since they were either devout Catholic or Protestant, and each denomination had a good amount of animosity toward the other. 

A buzzing noise sent Elle scrambling into the bedroom, emerging with her cell phone held to her ear. “Hello?”

“Eight again today, Princess?” Tony’s voice was loud, even on the tiny speaker. Elle winced and turned it down, but Steve could still hear it, and he suspected Loki could as well.

“That’s the plan. Why?” 

“ Just confirming. Pepper picked up some duds for your new beau.”

“Tony.” Eleanore’s voice was a warning, but she only rolled her eyes. “Tell Pepper thanks. Why are  you calling, though?”

“I’m hurt! Don’t you ever want to talk to me?”

“Is Darren still in bed?”

“No, he’s in the bathroom. Doing his daily duty. Has to empty himself so he’s not too full of—”

“Okay, I get it,” Elle cut him off with a grin. Steve was almost affronted, but it was a private conversation. “Tony, you could stand for some of that treatment yourself.”

“Sounds like we all could,” Tony retorted. Something in the background started beeping, and Steve could barely hear it.  “Gotta go.” The call ended abruptly and Elle shrugged her phone into her pocket.

“It’s only quarter ‘til seven now,” she commented as she spooned up another bite of breakfast. “He’s probably hyped up on coffee.”

“In any case,” Loki stood and walked around them, putting Steve on edge as he loomed behind Eleanore, then moving into the kitchen and placing his dish in the sink. “I assume they are willing to get an early start.”

“You in a hurry?” Steve asked, challenging Loki’s complacent attitude, wondering what he was up to.

“I merely wish to offer as much of my time as possible,” Loki replied with a condescending smile. 

“I’m going to put some supper in the slow cooker before we head out,” Elle protested, stepping between the men and stealing Steve’s empty bowl with a grin. “Pork roast.” She stepped around Loki, who moved out of her way and into the living room again, got out the crock pot— the same model she’d recommended for Steve— and opened the freezer, unearthing a white package and unwrapping it. She put spices in with the frozen meat, along with a little water, and set the timer for ten hours. “Ready when we get home.”

Steve mentally resolved to order takeout for the next day, especially since Elle would need to study that night. Maybe, once they had more time, he could learn how to cook a lot better. The problem was she was really good, and she didn’t seem to have a method except for smelling things sometimes. Watching her throw ingredients and spices into a dish at random was not the easiest way to pick up the skill.

“Okay,” Elle continued, placing the lid on the cooker. “I’ll grab my suit and then we can surprise them early. I need to fix up my medic bag anyway.”

“Sounds good,” Steve donned his upper uniform as she walked into her bedroom. Jet breezed past him and out the door, dashing up the stairs to take off from the roof. Charlie had long since fallen asleep on the stack of notes that adorned Elle’s reading chair.

Loki stood quietly in the living room, clearly waiting for them to join him. Steve approached and looked the other man over, trying to figure out his eagerness angle. 

“Pleasant weather today,” Loki greeted him, drawing Steve’s surprise to a peak.  What the hell does he mean by that?

“Yeah,” he responded, trying not to hesitate. “The sun’ll… help us see.”

“Perhaps I can offer my services for the buildings’ renovation as well, after the searches are done,” Loki suggested, his eyes open and earnest.

Steve got it then. “Look, you don’t have to convince me you’re sane. Elle’s the boss.”

“Captain,” Loki kept up the act, but Steve saw a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”

“Okay, ready.” Elle came out of her bedroom wearing her suit with the helmet folded back. She examined the men in front of her with an expression of calm bemusement, then shrugged and walked forward. “You okay with transporting us, Loki?”

“My wish is but to serve.” The sarcasm was obvious on that one, the dark-haired man’s lip curling around the words, his eyes raised to the ceiling.

Steve bit back a grin and stuck his hand out just as Loki did, meeting him in the middle. This time, Steve could feel the slightest shift in the air around them as Elle placed her hand on top of Loki’s. Then they winked out of existence and back into Stark Tower with bright sunlight shining through the living room windows. Or whatever this room was. Messed up, rubble-strewn, but the bar was intact so Tony probably still called it good.

“Hey,” Darren was there to greet them this time, showing no sign of his earlier occupation in the bathroom. His suit was already on, too, and he looked ready for action, holding a clear tablet that showed a general layout of the city with markers showing where the worst of the damage was. “I was just planning with some of the ground crew via… this,” he raised the tablet slightly, then walked over to join them. “Steve, there’s no more buildings to search, but how do you feel about clearing the roads?”

“Sounds great,” Steve nodded to him, not bothering to paste a grin onto his face. Darren and Elle had so far understood when he did and didn’t smile, although with the younger Stark, it was less about noticing Steve’s expressions and more about focusing on the conversation. Elle had commented once, in explanation, that Darren had learned to read nonverbals from machines, and from Tony, who often spoke and acted in two different ways.

“It looks like things are almost done from here,” Eleanore commented, coming around to peer over Darren’s shoulder.

“They are, actually. It’s just road-clearing, then a long series of indoor renovations, which the building’s owners will oversee. They all had insurance, with Starks as neighbors,” The young man grinned, and Elle chuckled at his dark humor. Steve wondered if it was strange to have one’s name on the side of a building, along with every piece of technology in use. Darren had probably helped design everything since he was old enough to speak, just like Tony and Howard. There were fewer news articles on him, but that was, Elle said, because Tony and Jana had done their best to keep him out of the limelight, both to preserve his childhood and to keep the public from noticing his alien side.

“Please, we bring up the market value.” Tony entered from the elevator, suit clanking, carrying Elle’s medic bag again. He tossed it to her and she started searching through it right away.

“Clothes?” she asked, with her head almost stuck inside the bag.

“Pepper’s having them delivered this afternoon.” Tony looked Loki up and down, “We’ll play Asgard’s Next Top Model.”

“Shall I assist with clearance as well?” Loki volunteered, ignoring Stark, looking at Steve innocently, clearly keeping up his act. He was very convincing, but Steve didn’t think it would last long.

“We need you to help out repairing the downed wires and the circuit boards that got fried in the Chitauri attacks,” Darren informed him. “We’re turning the power back on as soon as it won’t start any more fires.”

“So I’m on that crew,” Elle spoke up, looking at Steve, who nodded. One of them had to be with Loki all the time.

“You can help organize the parts deliveries and whatever else,” Darren agreed. “Jarvis, have Dummy bring Elle a tablet.”

“Right away Sir.” The cultured voice in the walls didn’t shock Steve anymore. As soon as it finished speaking, a whirring motor noise approached from down the hall, and a robot that was just an arm emerged with an identical tablet in its grip. 

“Thanks Dummy,” Darren patted it on the head-slash-hand after Elle took the technology, and it chirped strangely before retreating. 

“So let me guess,” she started, pulling up a diagram of separate parts on the screen, frowning down at it. “You designed delivery drones last night, and that’s why your dad is still awake.”

“He was putting on the spinning rims,” Darren acknowledged with a grin.

Elle rolled her eyes affectionately and kissed him on the cheek, then came over to stand in front of Steve and Loki again so they could see the map that she’d opened. It was labeled simply  Roads , and there were the streets of Manhattan crisscrossing in mostly green lines, with red and yellow spots and little symbols that increased in the three block radius around Stark Tower. Orange symbols showed where crews were currently working, and red and yellow indicated the degree of blockage that the road was experiencing. There were only a few red markers, and about ten yellow. Steve looked out the window and started envisioning finishing the project as quickly as possible.

A flash of wings cut through his thoughts, and Jet landed on the balcony again, perching with his back to the group, tail swiping through the air.

“Jet, do you wanna help clear the roads?” Elle half-shouted through the broken window. Jet turned around and gazed at her a moment before returning to gaze over the city. “He seems okay with it.”

Steve looked around, making sure everyone who’d assembled to work was ready. “Let’s get started.”

After taking the elevator to the ground floor, the team split up to their respective jobs. Steve headed out to the nearest construction site he’d found on Elle’s map, and the workers welcomed him right away, although they took more time to warm up to the dragon who accompanied him. He and Jet started moving slabs of concrete around when machines couldn’t find a good grip on them, and throwing smaller pieces into a dump truck one at a time. The work made time fly by, and before long Steve found the sun far overhead, and he wondered how his team was doing. 

“Hey,” Tony landed next to him and easily overturned another chunk of mortar that Steve had been eyeing. “Want one of these?” He held out an ear piece, and Steve gratefully accepted it, wondering how many more of these Stark would give him before Steve would remember to bring them back. To be fair, almost everyone else had their communication devices built into their suits.

“Thanks,” Steve replied, fitting the plastic to his ear and picking up a one-sided conversation from Elle about transferring materials “ carefully, thank you very much Darren, Loki don’t encourage him.” They sounded like they were getting along just fine. “Anything unusual out there?” Steve asked Tony as a cool breeze blew down the side of one building, chilling the sweat on his face.

“If you mean anything other than that,” Tony pointed behind Steve, and they both turned to fully face Stark Tower, which had a strange vortex of clouds forming over it.

“Another portal?” Steve put his hand up to the comlink, trying to warn his scattered teammates. 

“ Loki says it’s—” a flash of lightning cut off Darren’s answer, and many more followed. The Tower was drenched in a column of blinding light, and from it emerged a familiar red and silver figure, flying in the other team’s direction.

“Thor,” Steve felt relieved at first, then remembered how much Loki hated his brother. A fight inside or around damaged buildings was going to lead nowhere good. “Tony, get over there and try to keep them apart. Jet, could I get a ride?” Tony took off immediately, and the dragon shifted around to allow him access to his scaly back. Steve took a deep breath, planning his jump as he went, holding on as Jet leapt into the air, streaking around and over the buildings. 

They were close by, relatively speaking, and Steve hadn’t slipped too much on the bright scales when he caught sight of Thor and Loki in each other’s faces, Tony and Darren holding up their hands and talking at the same time. Elle had her helmet folded back again and was looking between the brothers, who were getting more agitated with each breath. Steve watched in fear as Loki raised a hand to strike out, and Thor moved to meet him. What neither of them saw was Eleanore jumping in between them, confronting Thor and shouting, drawing the angry Thunder God’s attention to her. Loki faltered and stepped back, looking down at Elle in amazement as Jet landed in a cloud of dust about thirty feet away. 

Steve jumped off as soon as the wings stopped moving, his heart in his throat, preventing him from shouting as Thor paused and furiously regarded the woman in front of him. She was still talking, but quieter, trying to calm everyone down. Loki was regaining his indignation, and Thor was staring over her head as she spoke. Darren and Tony were standing so still, like they thought not moving would keep her safe in this precarious situation. It looked like she was about to be stuck in the middle of an Asgardian battle.

Steve obeyed his instincts in this situation, drawing himself up and sliding to stand beside Eleanore, ready to push her out of the way. “Hey,” he interrupted, and Thor turned to glare at him, breathing heavily. At least one’s attention was on him, and Elle was blocking Loki from an attack. He couldn’t hurt her. Probably. “What’s going on here?”

 


	12. O' Brother, Where Art Thou?

It was more difficult to calculate a working now that Loki had to worry about both the Captain and Lady Eleanore. He thought of teleporting, but the Starks were closing in and Thor would quickly be surrounded by people Loki was not allowed to kill. 

“My friends,” Thor responded boisterously to the Captain’s question, still glowering somewhat. “I have come to inform you the Bifrost is repaired!”

Silence met his declaration. Loki could see no expressions, as Eleanore and the Captain were turned away from him and the Starks’ faces were hidden behind impassive metal. 

“That’s good news, Thor,” the Captain spoke again, louder than his normal tone. Loki realized, upon closer examination, that the Soldier’s stance was protective even without his shield. Lady Eleanore was the same, her arms held out slightly not to keep Loki back, for she was not watching him, but to keep Thor away.  And what can they possibly hope to accomplish by sacrificing themselves?

“I have come to check on my brother’s progress,” Thor continued slowly, staring Loki down over Eleanore’s head.

“Did you talk to your parents before you made the trip?” she asked, drawing herself up, then stepping back to stand very near Loki. A dangerous location for anyone else, and she was completely untroubled. Now that he could see her face, Loki noted that she looked more strained by Thor’s presence than he had ever seen her. Possibly verging on anger, though there was concern in her eyes.

“I presumed acceptance among my shield-brethren,” Thor looked confused glancing around at his ‘brethren’. Loki watched, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at Thor’s semi-injured tone, trying to understand what he was seeing in the others. 

An uncomfortable silence followed, and then Darren Stark stepped forward into Thor’s line of vision, folding his visor back. “It’s not that you’re not  welcome,” he began softly, a peacekeeper among warriors. Loki recognized a little of himself in that action, the Loki from long ago, who’d been effectively killed over time. “Just… Elle?” Darren turned and nodded to let his lover explain the circumstances.

“Look, we need you to stay away from Loki.” Lady Eleanore was authoritative, and Loki could see her grating like sandpaper on Thor’s pride. “Nothing personal, bu—”

“You mean to keep me away from my brother.” The dangerous, low tone and the heightening of energy around them made the hairs on the back of Loki’s neck stand on end. He knew what was coming; Thor could not resist fighting for what he wanted.

Loki had had enough of mortals speaking for him. “I am  not your brother,” he seethed through gritted teeth. 

“See? Time.” Eleanore interrupted Loki’s willful continuation with a matter-of-fact tone. “I know you’ve missed him, but try—”

“You  dare !” Loki hissed over her shoulder, planning every possible eventuality of her death in detail. “I need no mortal’s protection. Step aside you useless harlot, and allow me justice.”

Eleanore turned to face him, an appraising expression taking over her features. She looked Loki up and down calmly, and he could make out the thoughts turning behind her dark eyes. “No. I think we should talk about this later.”

“You agitate him,” Darren explained from behind her in a hushed whisper, stepping closer to Thor. 

Of course, that only made Loki’s anger flare higher, and he pictured peeling off the boy’s skin as his woman, the healer, watched from behind bars of green fire. For the time being, he settled for stepping forward and standing above the insufferable wench menacingly, which put all the others on edge. Thor reached for his hammer, the dragon’s tail twitched, the Captain tensed and turned slowly, his blue eyes widening in concern. Tony Stark charged his hand-weapons with a whining groan. Darren watched placidly, an expression of complete confidence on his face. Either he was a fool, or he trusted the magic that tied Loki to his witchling lover.

“You want to get back to work?” Eleanore asked quietly, her breath warm on his face as she tilted her head back in what must have been an uncomfortable position to look up at him.

Loki met her gaze and felt himself deflating. Thor was her friend, probably, or something similar enough that an attack would only serve to prove his powerlessness. His sneer turned down into a scowl, then a glare through which Loki tried to direct every vestige of hatred he felt. It was, in effect, useless, as she stood still and waited for his answer. 

And what use was there in avoiding her hidden command? He was tired, somehow, in an unfamiliar and sluggish way that he’d only felt once before, after the rage in his cell. His mind, normally his first choice for a weapon, was nearly stagnant with slowly circling, ponderous thoughts and nothing new. Thor, magic, Eleanore, restrictions, no way around them yet. In some ways, he did not even want to fight. Loki’s will fluttered against the restraints like a caged bird, but no solutions presented themselves.  I need to think.

Not speaking, staring at the ground, he turned and headed back into the darkness of the gutted building where he’d been working when the energy of the Bifrost had disrupted his concentration. 

He’d been keeping his charade of civility well, considering he often thought of throwing Darren and Eleanore out of a window, or through a wall, or both. Eleanore was forever asking questions about how things worked, what when where, why this type of wire was preferable. Darren had answered each query in cheerful, annoying detail. Loki had learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about Midgardian electronics that morning. Whenever they laughed together in perfect comfort, standing so close to he who should have been their king, he had to quiet his fury and cover it with a blanket of calm. The day had gone very slowly that way, though the couple had seemed to enjoy each other’s company, making jokes Loki didn’t understand, quoting Midgardian words to each other, sometimes in strange voices, to evoke a chuckle. Loki had forced a smile from time to time when a witty remark from one of them was something he could appreciate. Once he’d joined Darren in a farce, pretending to throw fragile parts by making magical doubles of them and hurling them through the building’s shadows. Eleanore had blanched momentarily, then scoffed amiably, scolding them both. Loki did not mind making her laugh, not when he could also plan for her screams of terror and pain. Besides, the trickery had brought up pleasant childhood memories of similar pranks that he’d quickly shut out, possibly to bring up later when he was alone. And right after that, Thor had landed in a cloud of dust and ozone and chased away every good memory from the edge of Loki’s consciousness. 

Standing in the shade of the building’s entrance, Loki could still feel the lurching of his gut when he’d realized Odin and Frigga had not even given him three days to prove himself before they sent their only son to fetch the traitor they’d harbored for so long. Loki had launched himself from the structure with a growl, intent on facing his doom as a warrior, fighting all the way to Asgard if he had to. Then Eleanore had shrieked from behind him, and his arms went numb with a simple order of “ No!”

Loki grit his teeth in restraint, bit back a verbal reaction in the quiet, musty structure. He could hear the Captain’s steps approaching cautiously, but he kept his back turned. He could also hear Eleanore and Darren murmuring with Thor now in calm voices.

“… can ask Heimdall how we’re doing, right?” Darren was asking, his tone gentle.

“Of course,” Thor answered. “I simply wished to… To see my brother once more.”

“I think a few months away from all things Asgard would help a lot,” Eleanore spoke at her normal volume, which was easy to hear even from Loki’s distance. “I told your mom and dad that.”

“You OK?” The Captain asked, walking around to stand in front of Loki. 

Loki did not speak in reply, simply raising an eyebrow, from which the other man could extract as much meaning as he liked. All Loki wanted was some quiet to hear the rest of the conversation outside.

“Your bravery is impressive,” Thor was complimenting the only aspect he’d ever cared about.

“No,” Lady Eleanore corrected him, “he wouldn’t hurt me.”

Loki’s mouth turned further down as he bit back a sharp laugh. Because, of course, he  would hurt her. Eviscerate her at the first opportunity along with the rest of the Avengers and anyone who’d ever had any contact with Thor. Was she really so blind, or simply ignoring his intent?

“Uh, Princess? I’m thinking he would.” Tony Stark spoke up with characteristic arrogance.

“Tony.” Eleanore’s voice contained a  glare , which was an impressive feat. Even Thor had to be in a killing rage to sound so angry, and even then he lacked the edge of a threat that Eleanore commanded. “No. He wouldn’t.” 

What tactic is this, and for what strategy? Loki wondered, gazing at the Captain in front of him. The other man appeared to be listening to the conversation as well, eyes cast far away. Perhaps it was simply something the mortals thought would bring on his rage, or that he would see it as a challenge. Either way, Stark was correct.

“Whatever floats your crazy boat. I know, I know. Don’t call him crazy.” Stark sighed, “So Thor, you in the mood for a drink?”

“I am sorry, Stark,” Loki could see Thor’s head-shaking, downcast expression of disappointment clearly in his mind. “I should return to Asgard. There is much to discuss, now that the Bifrost is repaired.”

“Have a good trip,” Eleanore dismissed him cheerfully, just as Darren said, “Fly safe!” 

Loki smothered a sudden grin, imagining the expression on Thor’s face. No one had ever sent him off, and never had they treated him with such casual disregard. The two lovers would have been pulp, had they been speaking to the Thor of just a few years ago.

“Farewell my friends,” Thor recovered quickly, though there was disorientation underneath his tone. A whooshing of Mjolnir and a gust of wind announced his departure, and thunder rumbled in the distance as the Bifrost once again descended to take the golden Son of Odin home.

“Back to work, slackers,” Tony’s suit blasted off, back to the random scouting flight pattern he’d adopted before and occasionally interrupted to help move some heavy debris. 

“Steve, do you want to stay here or go back with Jet?” Eleanore called into the building’s entrance.

The Captain glanced at Loki, then took a deep breath and headed out into the sunlight. “We’re making progress over on forty-second.”

“Have you had any lunch?” Eleanore was a woman who liked feeding people, that much was already clear from Loki’s limited observations. 

The Captain replied with the obvious  “Not yet,” and Darren ordered sandwiches to be brought with the next wave of drones. Again, footsteps approached Loki, but this time they were from his main captor.

“Hey,” Lady Eleanore spoke softly from behind him. “Loki?”

He didn’t respond, figuring she would take his reaction from his emotions, which were curiously distant and flat.

Instead, she walked around into his line of vision. Her helmet was off again, and he found himself looking into dark brown eyes shadowed by concern. “Loki?”

“I heard you the first time,” his voice was smooth, calm, collected. Not how he felt, but good enough to assure most people of his sanity.

“I know,” Eleanore grinned slightly and met his eyes. “I was just going to ask if you want lunch.”

“I do not.” He wasn’t hungry. If anything, he was wound tight to the point of nausea. Loki had always hated confrontation, especially with people he knew. He’d only learned to hide it through years of training and decades of practice.

“Okay,” she nodded looking around the dark, empty space. “You know, we’re about done with this stuff. Want to head over and help clear the streets after lunch?”

A choice again, though not much of one. Loki knew from the work they’d done earlier that this building was one of the last that needed Stark expertise. Either way, in an hour or so, they would all be removing the last of the rubble whether he chose to or not. However, the physical labor might make him feel better after the tense non-skirmish. Now that he thought about it, his skin was prickling, almost itching to fight or to run. “I will attend you to the rubble.”

“Great, I’ll grab a sandwich and eat while we walk.” Eleanore skirted around him and headed back into the sunlight. 

Loki stayed a moment, gathering himself with a deep breath, before he turned and followed. 

“All set?” Eleanroe was asking the Captain, who had just taken a bite of his meal. He looked at her in confusion before nodding. “Great, let’s head back over. We can chew on the way.” She gave the soldier a meaningful look, and he glanced at Loki, appraising. 

Loki realized then that the witch was letting her actions be dictated by his emotions. At first, he felt another surge of anger, but then a logical thought struck through like a sunbeam through the clouds.  She is afraid of me. Of what I will do. Excellent.  If they acted out of fear, he could soon manipulate them with ease.

Hiding a grin, he walked up beside his two captors as Eleanore took a sandwich from the dwindling pile. Loki opted for silence, because it was more threatening than words.

“Want to meet us back there, Jet?” she asked, looking up at perhaps the only creature on this realm that would cause Loki any trouble should he find a way to break his bonds. The dragon blinked one, expressionless, and Eleanore seemed to take that as an answer, nodding briskly and turning away from the beast. “See you Darren.”

“Bye, love you,” Darren waved through a mouthful of food. Loki thought that their displays of affection were entirely unnecessary, but he only looked away. They were children, and on Asgard they would not even be allowed to court, not that had stopped Thor or himself in their younger days.

The Captain and Lady were walking away, so Loki followed, easily catching up with his longer stride. They moved in silence for a while, until a shadow flew over them, followed by a gust of air and power that sent an icy chill down his spine. 

Loki froze and looked up, his heart in his throat, visions of Thanos and a new portal flashing through his mind in a panicked blur. Instead, he saw Jet arcing a graceful turn ahead, vanishing from sight. Eleanore and the Captain were both stopped, looking at Loki with concern, and he realized he’d shown a very clear reaction. He tried to bring his expression under control, swallowing once and breathing evenly.  So much for cultivating fear.

“You— uh,” Rogers began, stepping within arms reach with a searching gaze.

“I am fine,” Loki snarled, not bothering to control the irritation in his voice. He shrugged off their glances and walked ahead toward the intersection where the dragon had turned. He was infuriated to find his legs having trouble supporting him, and his hands shaking visibly. He clenched his fists, feeling more nauseated than before. His anger grew by the moment until it buzzed densely in his mind.

A wave of calm washed over him a moment later, and he whirled immediately to face the cause. Eleanore had been walking close behind him, and she skipped to a halt, helmet turned up to look him in the eye.

“Do  not ,” he hissed, spittle flying from his clenched teeth to splatter on her shielding, “seek to control a  god .” His eyes focused on his reflection in her helmet, and for a moment he did not recognize himself. Eyes wild, jaw locked, teeth bared, shoulders tense. Loki was reminded of a cornered wild animal.  Is this what I have become?

“Sorry,” Lady Eleanore was apologizing, holding one hand to the Captain’s chest to keep him out of the dispute. “Really, I’m sorry for that. I— it’s just a habit. Please forgive me.” She folded back her helmet once more, and Loki was again faced with large, earnest eyes.

“Forgive…” Loki trailed off, not knowing where that thought was headed. He took a step back and looked away, thinking. She was not lying, that much was certain. Loki had never seen her lie, but he’d done it often enough to recognize deception in others. She was truly asking forgiveness from him, though her eyes held no fear because, of course, Loki could not harm her. 

Before he could get any further with his slow, meandering musings, Darren landed beside him in a cloud of dust.

“They’re done clearing the rubble. The wiring is done, too. Dad wants to know if you guys want to come back to the Tower for a break.” The young man surveyed the tense scene before him and cocked his head, “Everything okay?”

“I think…” Eleanore began, walking up and laying a hand on the younger Stark’s arm, “we could use a quiet day back at the apartment. Want to come with?”

“Sure, Pepper’s home, and ever since Dad came back through that portal, she’s been kind of… hovery.”

“Great. Steve, you okay with that? Jet, we’ll see you at home!” That last part was shouted at the sky, where the dragon was now circling. It looked down for an instant and flapped quickly away.

“Sure, sounds good.” The Captain sounded relieved, though Loki could not be sure which factor caused the relief; not having to deal with Tony Stark, or just getting back to the peaceful little dwelling. Either way, he knew what was coming next.

“Loki?” Eleanore raised her voice in a question, barely hesitant. She had spirit, he would give her that. Not many people could stand up to him unintimidated.

Wordlessly, he turned and walked back to the group, holding out his left hand. The others held on, and Loki felt his anger stir again at his return to the quiet little prison hovel. He yanked them through time and space, and let his anger make the trip as rough as possible. Really, it bordered on dangerous for the mortals. 

When they regained their footing, all three of them sank to the ground on quaking legs. Eleanore put a hand over her mouth to hold back bile, and the Captain looked away, his face an interesting shade of gray-green. Darren held a palm to his forehead and breathed in and out slowly. 

Loki left them to their pitiful recovery, turning and entering his assigned quarters and, finally, shutting them out.


	13. Debate

The pork roast smelled great, but that was unfortunate because all Steve’s stomach wanted to do was purge everything he’d ever eaten, seen, or smelled. He distantly heard Loki’s bedroom door slam through the rushing in his ears, but after that there was silence. He forced himself to look up and around to get a handle on how his teammates were doing.

Darren was pale and shaky, his breathing shallow, sweat beading on his forehead. Eleanore was even worse, ashen, trembling, barely holding herself up with one arm. Steve already felt better than they looked, only a residual sickness turning his stomach when he moved. He allowed himself a few more moments of stillness, then got up and brought two glasses of water to the couple sitting on the floor. Charlie was weaving around their bodies, trilling for attention.

Eleanore tried to grin as she took the cup, but her lips quivered, and she ducked her head again immediately. Darren just grunted, which Steve took as a thank-you, and sipped at the beverage.

They were all quiet for some time. Steve took a seat on the couch and just let the others recover, watching to make sure neither of them tried to rush to the bathroom or anything. Charlie took the opportunity to jump into his lap and curled up for a belly rub. Steve complied, absently gathering the kitten in one arm like a baby and running his gloved fingers over the soft fur. He thought about Loki’s reaction to Elle’s lack of foresight, which was really a mistake on her part. He knew it was a habit for her to read people, and anyone could screw up, but she’d royally pissed Loki off when he was already tense and angry. Steve felt lucky they hadn’t had another battle on their hands. He was sure she wouldn’t do it again, but what impact had it had on Loki’s recovery? 

Steve sighed, shaking his head as the last of his nausea finally faded away completely. Darren was stirring, slowly rising from a sitting position to his knees to a crouch. He paused there, and Elle lurched next to him, standing slowly with her hands held out for balance. Darren stood and took her arm and they steadied each other, both still shaky and pale. They leaned together for a while, and Elle looked at Steve.

“I messed up,” she acknowledged quietly.

Steve could only nod, since she seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. Lecturing her over it wouldn’t help, but figuring out where to go from here would. “Any ideas about fixing it?”

“No easy fixes in communication. Only conflict management.” She frowned and gazed at the floor, “Let’s just let him be alone for a while and try not to bother him. He’s got a sound barrier on his room, I think. I can barely feel him in there.”

Darren put his arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze, then kissed Eleanore on the forehead. “It’ll be alright.” She hugged him back and they shared a loving grin. 

Steve felt himself relaxing in their presence. He didn’t know if it was Elle’s affect, or if they just caused that sort of reaction when they were happy together. Either way, he liked it, liked both of them, and he knew things would work out.

“It’s too early for supper to be ready. What do you guys want to do?” Elle asked, extricating herself gently from Darren’s arms and reaching for the cat still purring on Steve’s lap. “Hi baby kitty, how doos a good kitty baby…” her one-sided conversation devolved from there into mutterings and cuddles while Charlie purred even louder. She was his favorite.

“Steve, how’s your laptop working?” Darren asked, giving the cat’s head a scratch. 

“It’s great, thanks. I’ll go get it.” Steve was used to this. Whenever Darren came over, he asked how Steve’s devices were working, and no matter how ‘great’ they were he found a way to make them better. Last time he’d taken Steve’s phone apart and installed a chip to disguise its signal, both on wireless Internet and on its network. Elle had taken that opportunity to show Steve how the App Market or whatever it was worked, and helped him download a couple of programs for Internet browsing and secure texting. Steve changed clothes quickly, getting into jeans and a clean t-shirt, and grabbed his computer before heading out and locking his door again.

When Steve returned from his apartment, the couple had taken off their armor and were lounging around in comfortable clothes. Elle was sitting in her gray reading chair and petting Charlie with one hand while balancing a textbook titled  Organizational Communication: Approaches and Processes  in the other. She was skimming the pages, turning them quickly, mouthing the words silently. Darren was pulling his toolkit from the air, something Loki must be able to do as well, Steve realized. The younger Stark held out his free hand and took the laptop from Steve, dropping to the floor and unscrewing the bottom plate, immediately engrossed. 

Steve knew he wasn’t likely to get much talking out of them at this point, but that was fine. He looked over the bookshelf, settling onto the couch with  America’s Women by Gail Collins, which was a recommendation Elle had made early on. Reading it would give him something to discuss with her on a more equal level, he hoped. While she liked listening to his memories of the past, Steve couldn’t always conjure new ones on demand. Most of the time, he settled on questions and notes from his history books and the Internet, asking about unfamiliar terms and a continuation of a vague subject. If she didn’t know about it, Elle would help him find a ‘credible source’ that could tell him what he wanted to know. That, or the conversation would move to something she  did know about, and with Elle, knowledge was almost the same as passion. If Steve got her talking about something she disapproved of or believed in, they could go on for hours, and he could learn a lot. It was great, interesting conversation, but he knew she loved to read whenever she got a chance, and that not many people around her had read the same books. This might give her a chance to discuss this one, which she’d loved, and it would let Steve have a conversation about something they could both relate to.

Jet arrived quietly, and went into the bedroom where Steve heard him thump onto the floor with a deep sigh. Maybe flying wore him out. It was also almost time for to feed him. 

As he got into the history of women since the Colonies, he was struck immediately by the absolute lack of men anywhere in the book. Their only mention had to do with their wives, and whether they supported or opposed them. Even Abigail Adams’ husband, the second president of the United States, was only mentioned in passing, and as it related to his unwillingness to make women equal in the Constitution. That, Steve supposed, was the point the author was trying to make, since women rarely were mentioned in traditional history texts. He could see why Elle liked it. She’d filled him in lightly on feminism one night after an old movie in which the woman depended on the male protagonist to rescue her. Steve had listened and understood, recalling Peggy’s struggles to be taken seriously, having seen how Eleanore was treated by Senator Teague and Doctor Rouldkin. He thought, though, that women had made pretty great strides since he went into the ice, and he knew Peggy had worked hard to help with that. It was kind of shocking, as he read, to see how unusual it was for women of the past to voice an opinion on important issues, to work as hard as a man, to excel in anything but homemaking. It was also interesting to see how society had changed in times of hardship, like when people first colonized the East Coast and women were viewed as strong and hardworking helpmates to their husbands, versus only a few decades later when they starved themselves to appear more ‘womanly.’ Steve thought, from his view of the super-thin women of modern times, that America had come full circle.

A couple hours later, after Darren had his laptop taken completely apart and put back together, and once Elle had gone through each of her textbooks a couple of times, Steve rose and walked into the kitchen to get a drink. He heard the other two stirring behind him, and Charlie trilled as he jumped off the chair and hit the floor with a  thump . 

“How’s supper looking?” Elle asked, coming up beside him as he took a gulp of water. She opened the lid on the slow cooker and a cloud of steam wafted up, along with amazing scents. “Almost done.” She put the lid back on and slid around Steve to get to the pantry, where she pulled multicolored rice and a couple large cans of green beans out and put them on the counter. “Could you hand me the big and medium pots from up there?” she pointed, and Steve reached easily to get the containers and set them on the stove. Elle pulled water into the big one, and handed Steve a can opened from the drawer to her left. “Please?” 

“Sure,” Steve nodded, going to town on the cans. This can opener was almost exactly the same as one he’d had in his childhood, further proof that some things didn’t have to change. He poured the vegetables into the medium pot as Elle turned the stove on and poured olive oil over the watery rice. He retreated when she moved around him to get garlic and butter out of the fridge, sitting down at the counter to observe what he could of cooking. 

“Want me to tell Loki supper’s almost ready?” Darren offered, looking up from the computer screen and closing the laptop. He rose from the floor stiffly, stretching, and handed the device to Steve. “Anonymity online now, and I gave you a copy of one of my favorite games.”

“What’s that?” Steve asked, feeling a little honored that Darren was sharing things with him, too, even if Steve didn’t know the first thing about playing a computer game.

“Halo. It has a great plotline, and the gameplay is awesome. I’ll bring you a controller next time, and we can play one on one if you want.” Darren sounded excited about it, and his face lit up like when he was discussing his latest invention ideas. 

Steve wasn’t sure how he’d do with actually playing the game, but he was willing to give it a try. “How’s it work?”

“There’s a set of keyboard keys you can use to move around, and it takes some getting used to. But with the controller, it’s more intuitive. Like I said, I can bring one next time I see you.”

“Sounds good,” Steve nodded agreement.

“Do go tell Loki about supper, if you can get through the sound barrier.” Eleanore was stirring the rice around, and it looked almost done. The green beans were boiling along nicely too in their sea of butter and spices. “Don’t startle him, though.”

“I won’t,” Darren promised, walking up to Loki’s door and staring at it for a second before raising his hand to knock.

Before his hand reached the door, it jarred open to reveal a glowering Asgardian. Loki looked down on the man in front of him, then glanced around, meeting Steve’s eyes and glaring at Elle’s back. “How may I be of service.”

“Supper’s just about ready, and it’s really good.” Darren informed him calmly, grinning up at the irate demigod. “Meat candy and buttery green beans and the good rice.”

Loki looked repulsed at the mention of meat candy, but he stayed standing there while Darren described the rest of the food.

“He means the pork roast is good when I cook it this way,” Elle clarified over her shoulder, shutting off the burners and taking the lid off the cooker to set it aside. “I think— yep, there’s enough chairs for all of us. No table, though.”

“So, want some food?” Darren pressed Loki, who was still on the edge of the doorway, neither in or out.

“If your insist,” Loki hedged, stepping into the living room. 

Elle set out plates and silverware, and Steve got in line to serve himself. He sat back at the island and waited until everyone else was settled, Loki in the brown leather chair, Eleanore and Darren on the couch, to begin eating. Jet wandered out of the bedroom and went to lay down in front of the hallway door, resting his head on his paws.

‘Meat candy’ was actually a pretty accurate description. It wasn’t sweet, but the pork had been cooked so long that it was almost caramelized, and it fell apart when his fork touched it. The rice and green beans were seasoned with garlic and pepper, going well with the meat. Steve made himself eat slowly, wanting to enjoy every bite. He looked up a moment later and found Darren already heading back for seconds and Elle laughing silently at Steve’s impressed expression. Loki ate slowly too, taking time to be neat and polite, even as his plate sat in his lap and Charlie constantly tried to jump up to join him. The demigod would patiently brush the cat aside every time he put his front legs against the chair. Steve saw Eleanore watching the exchange as well, out of the corner of her eye. It was fascinating, really, to see the man who’d blown up tall buildings and thrown Tony out a window being gentle with the small animal. 

But then, Steve thought, Elle had seen something good in him. Frigga still loved him, too, and Darren wasn’t afraid for himself or for the love of his life in Loki’s presence. Maybe Loki just needed some faith. And a place to be safe. And time. Time away from Odin, for sure, and maybe away from people who expected the worst from him. That would be tough, but Steve could help make the second chance work.

Charlie let out a frustrated  meow , and Eleanore absolutely melted at the sound. “Aw! Come here, kitty,” she held out a tiny piece of pork, and the cat darted right over. She held the food above his head so he sat up and ate it from her fingers. “Oh, poor baby only gets dry food. How could Mom be so cruel?” Charlie trilled, done with that bite, and asked for more in his cutest possible manner. “No, not now. Later. Just calm down, I know you still have your own food.” The kitten slouched away and lay in the middle of the floor, licking himself calmly. “Good boy.”

“You’re going to spoil him.” Darren nudged her with his elbow, his tone teasing. 

“He’s a good baby doos,” Elle replied matter-of-factly. “He deserves a treat sometimes. Look, he’s not even begging anymore.”

True enough. Charlie was done licking himself, and just lay still, blinking slowly around the room to meet the eyes of every occupant. 

“Yeah, but he will. Just wait.”

“You’ve never had a pet before, how would you know?”

“Dummy begs! Ask my dad.”

“Faulty programming. Charlie  learns . He’s smart.”

“Smarter than a robot?”

“Smarter than a one-armed, clumsy robot.”

Steve grinned slightly, listening and privately agreeing with some points from each side. It was nice spending time with Elle and Darren because, while they argued like an old married couple, there was a lot of love in their tone. And they were both funny when they wanted to be.

“I’m programming you a cat robot when I get home,” Darren threatened. “You won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Yes I will,” Elle was giggling, probably at the gross mental image of a cat robot. 

“How?”

“It won’t shed.”

“I’ll make it shed  extra , with special fur replacements so you’re always just covered in cat hair no matter what you do.”

Eleanore was laughing outright now, covering her mouth with one hand to keep from spitting food everywhere. Steve’s grin grew into a full smile.

“Name it Sparky,” he suggested, which drew more laughing and a mischievous grin from Darren.

This was good. It was Steve’s favorite kind of camaraderie, and it made his heart feel light after weeks of intensity and bouts of loneliness. Nothing was wrong here and now, in this apartment where aliens and a mutant and a science experiment were eating supper and relaxing together. In this mood, it was easy to push aside the problems of the world. Real laughter from people he trusted was infectious, bright, satisfying some place deep in Steve’s heart that was always aching lately. They expected nothing from Captain America here, though they knew each alter ego fairly well. They took Steve Rogers in stride, with all his imperfections and ignorance of the modern world, with all his problems dealing with everything. That was a lot of meaning to assign to just one brief burst of humor, but the thoughts ran through Steve’s mind quickly, leaving him feeling peaceful.

He glanced at Loki, momentarily feeling closer to the silent Asgardian, and only found blank disdain in his features. The contrast brought Steve back down to reality, and he realized everything he and his team would have to deal with, both inside and outside, on the battlefield and off. Loki was one of the least of their worries. From what Steve could tell, powerful villains were becoming more and more normal, and many of them knew how to use governments and citizens to their advantage. It was a new, if not higher, form of war, and one Steve had only a little experience with. The Nazis has only had ten percent of Germany on their side, and they accomplished historical mass killings. The US dropped two huge bombs as experiments on live people in Japan, and the results from that were catastrophic. Current wars were impossibly messy, and it seemed like no one ever had the whole story. The Avengers would have their work cut out for them, not getting aligned with political parties or societal declarations of intolerance. It would be tougher to tell who the enemy was. Steve was counting on his gut feelings and his team’s savvy to keep from making the wrong choices under pressure.

These sobering thoughts stole the grin from Steve’s face, even as Eleanore and Darren kept teasing each other and drawing up plans for the robotic cat. He opened his laptop and set his plate to the side, typing modern political search terms into the Google page (Darren had made a face the first time he’d heard Steve say ‘the Google’ but he hadn’t explained, and Elle had been in the other room, so Steve had no idea what was wrong with the statement). He started looking into political sponsorship, which was something that gave Eleanore the most cynical, sarcastic tone in the world. After just a few minutes of research, Steve could see why. Nearly every politician, left and right, were bought out by corporate interests. The few that weren’t were basically ignored, their (interesting, caring, correct) views cast aside in the interest of passing bills that favored the elite. 

He saw a link to a website promising more information and clicked on it, and before he knew what was happening, a video had started playing at full volume, cutting through the quiet conversation going on in the room. Steve felt his face heat up as he hurriedly paused it and met the three pairs of curious eyes that turned toward him. 

“What are you looking at?” Eleanore asked, getting up and coming around the counter to peer over his shoulder. 

“Just… politics.” Steve gestured to the screen, where a couple people were sitting in front of a news desk, talking about political corruption.

“Oh, The Young Turks. I watch this sometimes.” 

“What is it?” Steve asked, surveying what appeared to be just a video online of a news team. 

“An independent news network. They try to focus on what’s actually going on, instead of the stories the media gatekeepers want you to hear. Different perspectives. I wouldn’t say unbiased, because they’re all fairly liberal, but I like them because I’m liberal.” While Eleanore was explaining, Darren came up behind her and began nodding along with her statements. “They’re covering the election pretty in-depth this year, between Obama and Romney. I think Obama is going to win, though.”

“How often do you change leadership here?” Loki spoke up for the first time, rising and depositing his plate and silverware in the sink. He walked over and stood at the junction of the living room and kitchen, just barely a part of their group.

“In America, every four to eight years for the President, but there are no real term limits for the House or Senate, which is a  huge problem.” Darren was as interested as Eleanore was in politics and system reform. They would talk about starting their own country sometimes. Mere wishful thinking for the most part, but they had good theories about how a political system should be run. “They should all have pay reductions and strict term limits. That way only the people who  want to change things could be in power, and only for a short while.”

“Would it not be simpler to have a monarch?” Loki asked idly, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head. 

“In some ways, yes, for people who don’t want to think too hard about their choices.” Elle answered, going into her debating mode. This was different from information-sharing. Her breathing quickened, she got incredibly focused, and she bit the inside of her cheek when she was thinking. She was also more prone to interrupting in this state of mind. In this case, Steve liked her answer, but he still got ready to pull her out of harm’s way if she made Loki angry again.

“But you may be happier without having to worry about the changes so often, even in your short lifetimes,” Loki pointed out. He was trying to make a case for ruling Earth, Steve knew, but he was going to get shot down pretty quickly with all three of the people in the room against it. “You could focus instead on more personal pursuits.”

“These are personal pursuits for us,” Darren pointed out. “We want a say in what happens to our country, and we want every voice to matter.”

“But if you had a benevolent ruler who took care of such concerns…” Loki smiled conspiratorially. He was just trying to pick a fight. Steve decided to let the debate go on, though, if only to bring that smug attitude down a notch.

“That’s the problem,” Elle butted in, gesturing generally with her hands. “The word ‘tyrant’ didn’t use to have a negative connotation, but over time, with worse and worse rulers being born into power with no understanding of how everyday people lived, it turned into a term for an evil leader. You get a nice tyrant, then sure, things are good for a while. But people die unexpectedly. Get a mean one, or one that doesn’t like a certain group of people, and you’ve got genocide.”

“But with a ruler who is practically immortal,” Loki rebutted, “One could be sure of his values for the duration of his rule. And in some cases, a certain amount of dislike is justified.”

“But a king could make mistakes,” Steve interjected, thinking of his musings on modern wars and ties. “That’s why we have the system of checks and balances in place— so no one person has the power to step over all the people. And while dislike is fine, murder isn’t.”

“Any mistakes a ruler made would also be repaired by said ruler. Hypothetically, of course.” Loki smiled bigger, seeming to enjoy himself.  Maybe he likes to debate.

“People might die from a mistake. No ruler could fix that.” Eleanore was frowning, giving a softened version of  the look.

“People die every day in the name of unworthy causes. To change that, you would have to change human nature.”

“Person nature,” Darren objected. “Or something. Because people other than Earthlings have been involved in pretty stupid conflicts.”

“The Ice War,” Loki agreed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

“And the Alfheim-Svartalf wars. They accomplished nothing.” Darren was citing things Steve knew nothing about, and he was impressed. The young man, like Eleanore, had a wealth of hidden knowledge that seldom came up in conversation. When it did, he could shock the most calm debater.

“Asgard acted as a mediator then, and now.” Loki pointed out, clearly expecting that sort of rebuttal, “Another example of how a steady ruler can improve life for all.”

“So you agree with everything your dad’s done?” Elle was treading dangerous waters now. 

Loki’s eyes flashed, and he surveyed her with disdain. “He is the King of Asgard, and  not my father.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the amount of venom in Loki’s voice when Odin came into the picture. “But he’s probably made some bad calls, right?”

Loki looked around at all of them, green-blue eyes drawn in fury and something that looked a lot like pain. Then, he smiled. It was more like baring his teeth, his lips stretched across unwilling muscles, the rest of his body posed for murder. “I suppose he has.”

“What we’re getting at is that one man having that much power often doesn’t turn out well,” Steve spoke up, trying to keep the dangerous attention on himself. 

“Then what would you suggest?” Loki asked, his expression becoming slightly less murderous. “Because, from what I have gathered, no Midgardian government is perfect.”

“No,” Darren agreed.

“We want to instigate the change of attitude that could lead to improvement of leadership,” Elle went into information mode, eyes lighting up with ideas. “It would take more than my lifetime, but if we could start with the basics: increased value on education, increased empathy toward our fellow man, a non-privatized prison system, basic human rights like universal health care. Things that, over time, would become normal. Once people take something for granted, they’ll fight really hard if it’s taken away.”

“So, instead of letting a powerful ruler implement these drastic changes, you are willing to work for them your entire life and die before they come to fruition.” Loki looked Elle in the eye, disbelieving. 

“We’re not doing it just for us, though,” Darren added. “We’re fine, really. We have so much more than most people. It’s for the future. It’s for generations, so we can pass on a better world.”

Steve felt proud of his friends. He hadn’t heard them talk about these subjects in-depth yet, or in a realistic manner. Sure, imagining a perfect country was fun, but they were willing to create the better place where they were. They were young and driven. Inspired and inspiring because disaster hadn’t really struck them yet. Sympathetic to their fellow man, willing to pay their effort into improving life for everyone. They weren’t greedy, Eleanore because she hadn’t grown up rich, and Darren because he had. Steve could see why they were drawn to each other— two opinionated, ambitious freedom fighters who would have significant swaying power over society when the media got to them one day. They’d use their power to further their strong sense of right and wrong and compassion and tolerance.

Loki just looked at them for a moment, probably seeing if they were lying or exaggerating. Steve didn’t blame him— it was easy to talk about change, but another thing entirely to make it happen. “You will never see the outcome of your work.”

“We’ll see a little of it. We’ll be able to tell if it’s working, after a while.” Elle smiled, glad he was getting the point. 

Steve absently wondered if he’d live to see their results.

Loki rolled his eyes and turned away, back to the leather chair, settling in with a sigh. “Let me know if you change your minds.”

“We will,” Elle laughed, although Loki wasn’t really joking. “So, who wants a movie?”

They spent the rest of the evening watching  The Truman Show , which Steve really liked. The technology was understandable, even for him, and Truman’s search for himself was relatable on a personal level. Steve frowned when the director set himself up as God, but he was really happy when the woman Truman loved made it through the crowds. It was a promise of a better life. Steve wondered if, like Loki said, Truman would find out he was happier in the world where most things were stable, uncomplicated, or if he liked the unpredictability of the outside world. Either way, Steve thought he should have a choice.

Darren decided to stay the night, and Steve departed after that, figuring they’d like some alone time, or study time since Elle mentioned her exams set for the next day. He went back to his quiet apartment and tried sketching the expressions of the debaters, thinking over the discussion as he did. He realized, with a start, that Loki had talked to them about a personal subject that he disagreed with them over, and no one had even yelled. Sure, there was that tense moment when Odin was mentioned, but Loki had held it together. Maybe that was a sign of healing. Or maybe he’d felt the affects of the magic that wouldn’t let him hurt Eleanore or Steve or their friends. Either way, it was encouraging. There would still be tough days ahead, of course, but this might work out after all.

Steve went to sleep with images of Eleanore and Darren running for president (which one didn’t matter, but Steve thought Elle was a better public speaker). They fixed the school system, raised wages, and implemented term limits so the people could have a voice again. He smiled as he drifted off, feeling excited about the changes he’d get to help with in this second chance of a lifetime.


	14. Sparring

Loki stayed up all night alternating between reading the history book and thinking about the debate. The lack of sleep would not bother him much, and he wished to avoid another regressive nightmare, which would only highlight his pitiful mental state. Between that and his strange new reaction to rage, he was practically a stranger to himself. He wanted time to get to know what was new, to see if anything would fade or change further, or if the magic of Odin had affected him in other ways. He’d reinforced the room with magical barriers meant to protect him from any outside threats, then settled into the small desk chair and folded his hands under his chin to think.

There was some merit to what the mortals had mentioned, in terms of improving Midgardians’ lives, but he still thought a single ruler would nicely wrap up all the grievances and impose order and graciousness upon this overpopulated realm. While Eleanore was right, and he disagreed with some of Odin’s choices - namely taking in a Frost Giant child and raising it as an oblivious, disguised monster - he appreciated the direct obedience that such leadership commanded.

With the quiet and time to ponder, he even planned out how to accomplish such drastic measures, using the more intelligent and driven of his subjects to organize the minutiae, mind controlling them with the scepter to bring about peaceful control in mere months at most. Minimal threats, minimal deaths, maximum benefits for his kingdom. Midgard was full of short-lived potential, and Loki would harness every bit of it into making them stronger, powerful, more protected. For Thanos would target this realm sooner or later, probably within his mortal captors’ lifetime, and Loki would likely be left to deal with the fallout such a threat would cause. In fact, attacking Midgard made perfect tactical sense, as this tiny backward realm was under Asgard’s protection, and they would open the Bifrost to send warriors and possibly their powerful weapons in defense of the humans. And mutants. And other super-humans. Most of whom would likely battle with all they were worth for their planet, with their impossibly strong sense of fidelity and nobility. 

Yes, Thanos would attack here. But he would have a fight on his hands, whether Loki was in control of the mortals or not. Looking at their history, the humans had made mincemeat of each other over the centuries with increasingly advanced weaponry until they came to a virtual stalemate, pointing missiles from country to country that would destroy all life if they were ever launched. Those alone would be excellent for deterring an attack from above their atmosphere. One had certainly stopped the Chitauri, though, Loki smirked, the foolish World Council had intended it to end the island where the attack had been staged, killing their own people without hesitation. Humans were a diverse lot in terms of loyalty and principles.

There was no reason Loki couldn’t control them in more subtle ways, though. The very fissures in each organization, including SHIELD, were stepping stones that could help him climb to the top and pull their puppet strings. Slipping them information on Thanos’ imminent strike would be the first step. He would let that ferment until their fear was ripe, and then they would come to  him for advice, for weapons development, for battle plans. He would gain power over them through trust, and eventually he would be a ruler in all but name. The name could come later, after he’d amassed enough followers to stage a tour of world domination, as Stark had put it days earlier. 

But, for now, he would start small and use his patience to his advantage. These mortals who claimed him as one of their own were the first level of his deception, and he would have to act carefully to gain their true trust. Of course, Lady Eleanore had expressed confidence in him already, as had Darren. The Captain was wary, but only in the interest of protecting his friends. If Loki could win him over, then the rest of the Avengers would follow more readily. He’d have to really protect them, help them, do as he was ordered to keep up the illusion of reform. The thought rankled, but not as much as the notion of awaiting Thanos unprepared.

Loki noted the time, already close to dawn, and began steeling himself for the day ahead. Lady Eleanore would be taking her exams, whatever that meant. She’d certainly studied enough, once the Captain left, pulling out her books and pouring over them while the younger Stark had written in a notebook in comfortable silence. After an hour or so of that, they’d gone to bed together, which would have been an unacceptable travesty on Asgard with children so young, but which they seemed to think was normal. Loki had to admit they were committed to each other in an undeniable way. In some respects, they acted much older than their years warranted, speaking in cynical, experienced tones when faced with passionate subjects, eagerly supporting each other, working tirelessly to accomplish what some would consider menial labor. In other ways, they were obviously, hopelessly young. Their expressions of affection, their idealistic outlook, their confidence in their fellow man, in Loki himself. Loki saw his past self in them more than he would ever admit. He also knew that life’s unkindness would soon quash their hope in its own devastating ways. All the better for gaining their trust, if he was there when they needed outside support.

Loki shook his head and focused again on what the day might bring. Until he got used to Lady Eleanore’s routine, he would take everything one day at a time, reacting and planning as he learned and gained experience in the mortal world. 

There was stirring outside his door, and Loki stood, drawing his hand down his body to change his clothes and refresh his body. He checked himself over in the mirror, and pronounced the effects satisfactory. He’d lost flesh during his uncounted time as a prisoner, but he was rapidly recovering. His cheeks were not so hollow, and his body was completely healed. Only his eyes troubled him, the pale orbs filled with a dangerous light that he’d never seen before. Loki wondered if others saw it too, or if it was a projection from his mind— a reminder of all he’d been through and how he’d changed. 

Shrugging mentally, he turned and opened the door, letting the magical shieldings partially fall away as he stepped into the main room. Eleanore was there on the couch again, engrossed in a notebook and her computer simultaneously. She looked up when he walked in and smiled a greeting.

“Morning. Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Loki shook his head. “I was already awake.”

“How’d you sleep? Any more bad dreams?”

“None,” Loki said truthfully, avoiding the fact that he hadn’t slept at all.

“Sorry I forgot about picking up your clothes yesterday.” Loki shrugged off the apology, as he had his own perfectly comfortable clothing, but Eleanore ignored him and continued, “Darren got Jarvis to modify a drone overnight, so they’ll be delivered sometime today.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, not knowing what she expected him to feel about that. He was neutral, verging on disapproving, thinking that Midgard’s mass-produced goods would fit him ill and end up being more of a disguise tactic than anything he’d want to wear. When he’d appeared in Stuttgart, he’d modeled the illusion of his clothing after designs he’d long favored, only giving them a few tweaks to blend in. He eyed what Eleanore considered comfortable — very short pants, oversized, unflattering tunics, bare feet — and hoped she’d had no say in his styling choices. 

“You’re welcome,” she turned back to her book, wrinkling her brow in concentration. 

Loki looked around, at a loss for what to do, and lighted on the steaming pot of coffee sitting on the counter. He walked over and opened the cupboard, surveying the handled cups that seemed to be customary for hot beverages. He found a green striped one of varying shades, and selected it with a small grin. He poured the coffee first, then added a bit of the dried dairy product and just enough sugar to make it bearable. Then he walked over and sat down in the leather chair he’d already started to favor for its familiarity and comfort. He mentally checked himself.  You should not be identifying with any furniture here. Not with anything. You are a conqueror, and everything other than your plan is a distraction.

He looked over at the woman responsible for his presence on Midgard in the first place. Still calmly distracted by her studies in some certainly useless subject, unaware of the seething Loki was doing just feet away. The cat wandered in and leapt into her lap, stepping slowly over the book and taking over with calm presumption. 

“Hi, honey,” Eleanore’s voice changed strangely when she spoke to the animal, rising in pitch and ridiculousness. She set aside her book and gave attention to the rumbling little creature.

“What do you study?” Loki asked, once the silence had stretched for a moment. He didn’t necessarily want to know, but understanding was key to undermining.

“Communications. Theories, mostly, this last semester.” She reached a thinner book across to him, and he took it. 

Interpersonal Conflict . Loki opened it and scanned the pages, finding tactics for engaging in ‘conflict management’ and respectful discussions. She’d used these tactics on him, whether consciously or unconsciously. They were largely common sense, only putting names to things Loki had mastered long ago. “How many years have you devoted to learning this… subject?”

“Two and a half.” She made a face. “Would have been less if I didn’t have all those pesky credit requirements to fill, too.”

“Why not devote your time to something more—” Loki drew himself up short and thought about whether he wanted to offend her or not. Decided he didn’t care. “More useful? Advancing your limited understanding of the universe, for example.”

“This  does advance our knowledge. Of each other, for one thing. I can see what you’re saying, though.” Eleanore was not acting offended, only thoughtful. “I’ve wanted to work for SHIELD for a long time, or something similar, but my mom made me promise to go to college, so I sped through it on the fast track of a degree that I thought might come in handy someday.”

“You wish to be a SHIELD soldier,” Loki looked her over. She was a warrior who’d survived the Chitauri invasion, but she did not seem like someone who actively sought out violence. 

“I want to help people,” she corrected him, meeting his gaze. 

“That’s where I come in, I suppose.” He kept his face calm and raised one eyebrow, daring her to object.

“I suppose so,” she grinned. “I didn’t plan on you, specifically, but life never goes as you plan.”

“It does if you are careful,” Loki muttered, thinking of all the well-rehearsed strategies he’d used to manipulate people in the past. Though one that had mattered the most had spectacularly failed: Thor going to Jotunheim. Loki had never wanted to cause that much conflict, only to make Odin see that his oldest son was not prepared to rule.

“You can’t predict everything,” Eleanore pointed out, backing up the mistakes Loki had made. 

“Perhaps  you can’t.” He was drawn into dark reflection. He  hadn’t planned enough, and things had gone awfully awry. But he’d also unearthed a truth about himself, one that had remained hidden for far too long. So, really, fate had probably had something to do with the entire event. Loki was fated to fail, to fall, to come back and fail again. 

Fated to be prisoner to a Midgardian wench. He glanced sidelong at her, feeling rage building up. He quickly pushed it back, not wanting another outburst when it would do no good.

She was smiling at his previous comment, one corner of her mouth turning up in amusement. Loki wondered how quickly her expression would change if he started shouting, throwing things, letting his magic flow with his rage. He wondered how she could ignore the emotions she claimed were instinctively felt.

Eleanore looked him in the eye a moment, then turned her attention to the timepiece on the wall. “Crap, I have to get going.” It was half past six, and dawn was well underway outside the window shades, filling the room with cheerful yellow light. Eleanore set the cat aside and darted from the couch into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Loki sat in the quiet, breathing steadily to try to control his tumultuous thoughts. They would not center, instead whirling through his mind in a disconnected haze. Trying to focus on something abstract did not work, so he rose and walked over to the opposite wall, where pictures hung in brown frames. 

Eleanore and Darren laughed from one, waving to the camera from the dragon’s back, hair flying in the wind and expressions of elated joy on their faces. In another, Eleanore stood with two young men, both strangers to Loki, who shared enough features to be related to her. They were in another picture too, in the middle of a sunlit field with long rows of plants surrounding them, wearing hats and smiling, and Eleanore’s face lacked some of the maturity of her present iteration. An older couple stood in the same field in another picture, arms around each other, smiling for the photo. In another, Eleanore and someone Loki knew must be her mother posed similarly, almost identical people at different stages of life. A couple of very old mortals sat at a table in a spacious room, playing a card game together. Eleanore and Darren sat on a fence while cattle grazed in the background. One of the young men stood next to a cow, making an absurd face to mimic the beast as it chewed. Darren and the young men sat around a fire in the dark, talking animatedly. Eleanore read a book while sitting on a swinging bench that hung on a tree. Her mother stood in a kitchen, flour covering her hands and loaves of unbaked bread in pans before her.

“Family photos,” Darren commented, stepping out of Eleanore’s bedroom. Loki did not let his surprise show, not having noticed the younger Stark’s approach, reminding himself that there was no harm in looking at publicly displayed pictures on a wall. 

“Her family owns a farm?” He was curious, and also apathetic about it. 

“Yeah, she owns a part in it. Her aunt and uncle,” Darren walked to his side and gestured to the couple standing in the field, “and her cousins run it. Cows and corn and soybeans. I fixed their combine once.”

Loki didn’t know what soybeans were, or a ‘combine’, and he didn’t care to ask. “You were both much younger here,” he pointed to the fence photo, noting the absence of the dragon.

“Yeah, we’d only been together for a few months. She went back to work on the farm the summer after she graduated high school, and I visited for a few days. Her family there hated me at first, but now I think they like me.” The boy smiled ruefully and scratched the back of his tousled, curly head. 

“They tolerate you,” Eleanore contradicted, smiling, strolling out of the bathroom with her wet hair falling down her back. She was still in the same clothes, but she’d clearly bathed at some point.

“What time do your exams start?” Darren ignored the jibe and hugged her close, kissing her forehead. Loki kept himself from rolling his eyes.

“Seven-thirty. I have to run. I’m getting dressed and heading out. Get whatever you want for breakfast. Are you heading back to New York this morning?”

“Thought I’d stay and see how your exams go. Celebrate with supper tonight. Want to order in?” 

Darren’s offer was met with a huge smile that lit up Eleanore’s eyes, and another hug that wasted time. “Thanks. Okay, be right back.” She collected herself and dashed into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

The hall door’s handle twisted and opened, admitting the Captain, who looked at Loki and Darren standing in front of the picture wall and nodded a greeting. “Morning.”

“Breakfast?” Darren offered, moving into the kitchen. “All I know how to make is scrambled eggs.”

“I can help,” Rogers offered. “Elle already gone?”

“She’s changing in the bedroom. Her exams start at seven thirty. I don’t think she’ll be done until later this afternoon.”

“Sheesh.” Loki could at least partially agree with the Captain’s minimalist comment. When he’d taken lessons, they’d never kept him that long, releasing him for a healthy dose of physical training and leisure time. Then again, these were final exams. If they were anything like the final warrior presentation on Asgard, then the length of time made more sense. But Loki didn’t think the two were comparable, since the subject Eleanore studied appeared so simple. Perhaps there were many tests in one day, and that was why it would last so long.

Darren was getting eggs out of the ice box while Rogers set a pan on the stove and poured some type of oil into it. Darren cracked the eggs into a bowl and poured milk over them, whisking them with a fork and adding a few spices until he poured the goopy mess into the sizzling pan.

Loki watched this with interest, not having had experience cooking in an actual kitchen, much less a Midgardian one. Hunting trips and adventures from his youth were the most he’d ever fended for himself with regards to food, and Thor had always had a hand in the dishes, wanting to add unknown plants for taste. Loki vastly preferred the palace’s cooks, who knew what he liked and how he liked it. 

But that is no longer yours to claim. They catered to a lie. Bitter truths reminded him of who he was and why he was stuck watching two men trying not to burn rapidly cooking eggs over blue flames. 

“Smells good,” Eleanore commented, briskly walking out of her room and gathering her hair into a messy topknot. She threw her books into a bag hurriedly, grabbing her keys and a sealed cup of coffee before kissing Darren and waving to Rogers and Loki as she breezed out the door. The dragon-dog followed on her heels silently, sparing no one a glance as it disappeared. 

Darren and Rogers dished the eggs onto plates, and Loki took his and ate without a word. The silence was palpable, and no one seemed to know what to say. Loki thought of several comments, but he didn’t feel like talking anyway, and he enjoyed watching the other two squirm. 

When they were done, they all stood and put their plates in the sink. Darren stayed in the kitchen and loaded the pan and plates into a white machine whose door folded out to reveal wire drawers and a basket that was, apparently, for silverware. 

“There,” he said, washing his hands. “Cleared up. Now what?”

The Captain shrugged and Loki raised his eyebrow. He would have been fine spending the day reading more books, or maybe learning about their computers and using one to gain a wider variety of information.

“We could go take a look at the gym,” Rogers finally suggested, after a few moments. 

“Great idea. Have you seen it yet, Loki?” Darren asked, relieved to have something to distract from the awkwardness.

“I have not had the pleasure.”

“I’ll go change.” Rogers headed out of the apartment, and Loki heard the door across the hall open and close.

“I’ve got some gym clothes here, I think…” Darren furrowed his brow and went into the bedroom.

Loki was left to ponder what they meant by ‘gym clothes’. He figured they were not unlike Asgardian training garments for wrestling, which were light cloth tunics and trousers, with bare feet or boots. He ran a hand down his body and reformed his clothing to match his memories of time long past. Once he was declared a warrior and man of Asgard, he’d only been in the training grounds for ceremonies and competitive events, all of which required ceremonial royal armor.

Another trick, really. A warrior and man of Asgard… I suppose my disguise was declared adequate.

Loki felt his anger rising, and he redirected his thoughts to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. Rogers would likely not be as tolerant of an outburst as Eleanore, and Loki would like to keep at least one of them thinking he was improving. 

“Ready?” Darren emerged from the room clad in soft red pants that descended to his knees and a short sleeved black shirt with the running shoes that were favored on Midgard, also black. “Those look comfortable.”

“They are,” Loki acknowledged with a slight nod. The clothing was made for him, and it was worn just enough to be familiar.

“Want to head out? Meet Steve at his door?” Darren suggested. 

Loki held out an arm to invite the half-breed boy to lead the way and they made their way into the hall. Darren locked the door behind them with a shining silver key. 

“Spare,” he explained, spinning its ring on his finger and leaning against the wall. 

“Indeed.”

They were there only a quiet moment longer before the Captain joined them and they followed him down the stairs and into the street. They took a direct route around the corner and straight down across a street and an alley and into a short, flat brick building with two floors. There was equipment immediately inside the second door where Darren and Rogers swiped identification cards, but they led him down a flight of stairs into a basement entryway, where they swiped their cards again. 

“It’s a more private area,” Darren explained, “with special equipment with more weight on it.”

Loki looked around at the clearly roped-off sparring ring, the heavy-looking bags lined up on the floor and hanging from the ceiling, and the large weights off to the side. There was a smell of sweat and even leather that was eerily familiar in a way the room was not. He thoughtfully approached the hanging bag and gave it a tentative press with just the tips of his fingers, finding it did not give easily under light pressure. He struck it with the flat of his hand, and it gave a healthy swing, but the metal support held it in place. He spun suddenly and kicked it, and that was all it took to send the thing flying across the floor in a gravelly heap.

“My apologies,” Loki said, looking to the other two and expecting exasperation.

“It’s no problem,” Rogers walked over and picked up another of the bags easily, hanging it from the support again. “I’ll tape that one up in no time.” He lifted the broken sack form he floor and walked over into a small storage room. A ripping sound started coming in regular intervals as he repaired the equipment.

“I can hold this one for you so it doesn’t give as much,” Darren offered, walking around and pressing his shoulder to the oversized pendulum. 

Loki slowed his next kick so it wouldn’t send the boy flying, and landed slightly off from where he’d aimed. He frowned at the elbow he could see sticking out from the side of the bag. “Do you spar?”

“Some,” Darren straightened and faced him. “I like distance combat better, though.”

“Would you do me the honor?” Loki felt odd asking. It had been so long since he’d really practiced. Real like had given him plenty of opportunities to test his mettle against trained combatants. And this Stark had been his enemy until just a few days ago. Was  still his enemy in some ways.

“Sure.” Evidently unaware of his enemy status, Darren ducked under the ropes and pulled a set of gloves from the pole at one corner. He held them up and raised his eyebrows, “You use these?”

“I never have.”

“We don’t need to, then.” He hung them back up and stepped back as Loki ducked in beside him. “So how do you start on Asgard?”

“We…” Loki stopped himself, first remembering there was no  we , then realizing no one on Midgard knew that. “We stand four strides apart in ready stances.”

“Feet, hands, anything goes?”

“Honorable hits, if you want to go by their rules.” Loki privately liked those rules, as they had saved him and every other man a great deal of pain in the beginning. Sif had gotten called more than once for violating those regulations when she was first starting out.

“Alright,” Darren stepped back the appropriate distance and took a solid position. 

Loki cocked his head, surveying him. It looked like both Starks had had some training in close combat, no matter their flying abilities. “Are you prepared?”

“Yeah.”

Loki started slow, testing the waters with blows to Darren’s shoulders to see if he would be knocked off balance easily. He was not, and he hit back, quickly rising in Loki’s estimation. They started really sparring, acting and reacting, not pausing between strikes, relying on instinct and experience. Darren was not nearly as strong as Loki, possibly not even as strong as the Captain, but he made up for that with quick creativity and resourcefulness that kept Loki engaged and guessing. After the younger Stark had determined he wasn’t going to easily hurt or best Loki, he’d stopped pulling his punches and had attacked for all he was worth. Loki let the fight last, letting the physical exertion warm his muscles and release some of the built-up stress.

It ended on a mistake on both their parts, Darren becoming distracted by a noise from the ceiling and Loki overestimating his partner’s reaction abilities. Darren slid across the mat, bouncing once and rolling onto his stomach. He sat there a moment, panting, then grinned up at Loki. “That was great.”

“It was a good match.” Loki wouldn’t let himself admit aloud that he was sorry it was over, that he’d  enjoyed it. 

“Can I tap in?” Rogers asked from where he’d stood for some time, observing the fight. 

“Let me drag myself out of the way,” Darren groaned as he stood, sweating, and exited the ring. 

Loki nodded to the Captain to signal he would accept the challenge. They’d fought last in Stuttgart, with Loki in armor and Rogers completely unprepared to face him. This would be more even, although Loki would watch himself until he knew the man’s true limits. No use actually injuring one of the people responsible for his imprisonment, not when his release depended on their good will. 

Rogers was quiet, settling into the position Loki had taught Darren, shoulders tense, blue eyes appraising. Loki readied himself as well and made the first move, a casual sweep to the knee, which Rogers easily dodged. 

It quickly became apparent that the Captain had severely held back in Germany. The man was quicker than Darren, and he moved like he was used to being smaller than his opponents, dodging and getting in indirect hits as opposed to the brutish, straightforward style he’d shown before. Now he fought with  skill , and Loki almost forgot himself at times, only holding himself back on potentially critical hits. He started strategizing instead of just reacting, looking for a major weak point in Rogers’ defenses. It was his legs. They did not move as much as they should, and Loki attributed it to the man’s weapon of choice: that round shield that protected his upper body and also acted as an excellent target. He allowed the match to last until both of them were short of breath and sweating before he feinted, hooked his toe behind a vulnerable heel, and brought Captain America down with a forearm to the chest.

“Wow.” Darren was leaning against the ropes, eyes wide. “I need to learn everything about what just happened.”

“I got knocked over,” Rogers grinned and rose to his feet. “It’s not that complex.” 

Loki made his eyes slide past the overture of friendship and land on the offending legs. “Almost half your body is unguarded when you concentrate.”

“Yeah?” The Captain looked at his legs, following Loki’s gaze. “I’ll have to work on that.”

“We put extra armor there because you almost never cover your feet with your shield,” Darren agreed, hopping back into the ring. “Your boots are almost as bulletproof as my suit.”

“Thanks.” The Captain responded. No sarcasm, no annoyance at a flaw being pointed out. True gratefulness and satisfaction, and thoughtfulness about what he could do to improve. 

Loki told himself that wasn’t interesting, but it was.

They spent a couple more hours exchanging sparring matches and areas of improvement. Darren told Loki, from observation, that he tended to turn his back to his opponent more than was, strictly speaking, safe. That this was because Loki had spent centuries honing his skills so that he could scan around his entire body seemed to escape the younger Stark. Loki didn’t bother to enlighten him, giving a silent nod and knocking him down with a well-placed blow to the stomach, which was Darren’s weakest point.

Despite sparring with his enemies, Loki felt better than he had in days when they left the gym. The clouds were gathering, and the air had the feel of an approaching storm. Loki liked the rain, although lightning would forever be associated with unwelcome memories. 

His opponents looked much worse for wear than he felt, with Darren slouching and the Captain gazing about tiredly as though he’d fought another battle. In a way, he had. When they reached the apartment building, Darren let Loki use the bathroom for a ‘shower’ first, settling onto the couch and petting the cat, who was begging for attention. Loki took the opportunity to test out the bathing contraption, and found it not unpleasant, although he was too tall for it. There was obviously masculine and feminine soap side by side, and Loki was reminded of the scent of his favorite hair oil back on Asgard. He washed quickly and dried himself with magic, having forgotten a towel when he’d entered the bathroom.

“Elle called while you were in there,” Darren informed him as he exited the steamy room. “She’ll be here in about an hour. Just has to drop off her old textbooks.”

“Did she succeed in her examinations?” Loki asked politely. He didn’t really care either way, and he also didn’t knwo what the consequences were if she failed.

“Won’t know until next week when grades are due.” Darren stood and stretched before making his way into the restroom, towel swung over his shoulder. “I’m sure she passed, though.” He closed the door behind him, and the sound barrier swallowed any other reply he might have made.

Loki felt mildly curious and Midgard’s modern educational system and its requirements, but he could wait to ask. He sat in the leather chair and pulled the book he’d been reading from his space between spaces. Charlie jumped presumptuously into his lap and curled up, rumbling, but Loki just ignored him and turned the pages. He was on to the Iron Age, which was still laughably primitive compared to humans in the present time. 

“Hey,” Rogers entered the unlocked door, notebook and pencil in hand. Loki did not bother to return the greeting, and the man sat quietly on the couch and began drawing, his damp hair shining in the dull light that came from the approaching storm clouds. 

Loki suspected the man was there mostly to watch him, since Eleanore was absent, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. He was not currently intent on any plots, and even if he were he could easily outsmart the noble Captain. As it was, he was curiously calm, likely from the sparring and the warm water of the shower. He sighed and turned the page, knowing the peace would not last long and savoring it while it held.

 


	15. Chapter 15

"I know I said we'd order in tonight," Darren said, wandering into the kitchen from the bedroom where he'd used Elle's desk to draw up some equations, leaning his rear against the counter beside the stove, "but I could cook something quick here and have it ready when Elle gets home."

"Sounds fine," Steve shrugged. "What are you making?"

"Stir fry with this leftover pork roast," Darren pulled the container out of the refrigerator and chopped the meat into thin slices using magic and turning his attention elsewhere. He grabbed a pot from the stove and dropped the hovering food inside. Then he added olive oil - quite a bit - and set a bag of frozen vegetables on the counter beside the flaming stove. He grabbed another container and added rice and water, setting it on the back burner on a low heat.

"Smells good already." Steve watched the preparation for a moment, noting how Darren measured ingredients and used precise movements to pour, stir, and chop. He also kept glancing at the stove's flame height, and all these behaviors contrasted sharply with how Steve was used to seeing Eleanore handle herself in the kitchen.

Everything was calm for the moment. The sky was mostly cloudy, sending muted light through the windows. It was a warm day, but not as hot as Steve knew cities could get in the summertime. The apartment was smelling spicier as Darren raided the cupboard, muttering under his breath about flavor pairings. The wok made crackling noises as the pork cooked, and it hissed when the frozen vegetables were added. The air conditioner kicked in, and cool air flowed from the vent set at the base of the wall. The rotating fan lazily pulled the cool air toward the ceiling, turning on its slowest setting and making the room comfortably even in temperature.

Loki was reading, almost through with the world history book. Elle had ordered a couple more detailed textbooks for him online so he could learn more about history and scientific advances through time. Steve was looking forward to reading those himself. At least reading might keep the demigod from plotting, although there was probably a fair amount of that going on behind those green-blue eyes that sometimes looked pained, sometimes froze to icy fury. So far, though, Eleanore had handled her charge pretty well. An outdated super soldier wasn't really a benefit to this operation. He shifted to get more comfortable on the couch cushions and brushed those thoughts from his mind, picking up his pencil with a sigh.

Steve felt that he was unnecessary, but it was still his duty to watch Loki when Elle wasn't there, so he stayed. It was fun to draw, at least, and interesting to look up and see Charlie asleep on Loki's lap as though nothing were dangerous about that. Since Elle loved that cat so much, there was probably no risk for him. Steve drew them for a while, trying not to glance up too much so Loki wouldn't suspect anything. He wanted proof that such a peaceful time was possible, since there was inevitable conflict in their future. Maybe he'd show Eleanore sometime when Loki was away or distracted.

Footsteps up the stairs and down the hall warned of her arrival. Charlie heard the door handle turning and jumped from Loki's legs, trilling his way across the floor.

"Hey, baby kitty." Elle sounded and looked tired as she set a large suitcase down and picked up the cat, her eyes grazing over the men in her living room, an absent grin quirking the corners of her mouth. She looked up at Darren adoringly and beamed, "I love you. Thanks for cooking. How was the day?"

"It was good," Darren came out of the bedroom and gave her a hug, squishing the cat between them. Steve nodded agreement, letting them have their moment. "Loki taught us how to fight."

"Like debating or punching you in the face?" she asked, looking Darren up and down, then turning to Loki, then Steve, assessing for injuries.

"It wasn't overly violent. But there was some punching," Darren gave her a crooked smile.

Elle laughed at that explanation, then sighed and set her backpack down by the counter. "Three of my professors let me just show up to their office hours for the exams, but one forgot and I spent the day trying to find him."

Darren winced sympathetically, "Was that the presentation one?"

"Yeah, so I have no idea what kind of grade I got. Fifteen minutes talking about economic development models after dashing around campus. But anyway," Elle looked around the room again, drawing the other two into the conversation, "fighting, huh? At the gym?"

"Yeah," Steve grinned, recalling the great sparring matches. Loki was amazing at close combat, and Steve had learned quite a bit. Darren had improved over the course of the 'lesson' as well, moving more confidently and making better choices in attacks and defense. "Went a few rounds in the boxing ring without the gloves. No one got hurt," he assured her, as she narrowed her eyes and surveyed each of them in turn again, short glances that would reveal nothing she needed to worry about. Steve had gotten a few bruises from Loki's blocks, and even one or two from Darren's increasingly aggressive attacks, but they were to be expected and completely healed within an hour. It had been fun, not having to hold back. Darren was strong, stronger than any humans Steve had fought, but on about the same level as Steve himself in terms of reaction time. Loki was on another plane entirely, and Steve had had to push himself to even keep up. Without armor, the demigod had clearly felt hits more, but he'd never showed any pain and only minimal frustration. Overall, the experience was surreal, fighting Loki and losing over and over without worrying about the consequences. Learning about fighting tactics from a prisoner and an enemy. Former enemy.

Steve set his sketchbook aside on the end table and scooted over on the couch so Jet could jump up, which he did, smelling faintly of the warm outdoors: trees, close air, and vehicle exhaust. The dragon-dog stretched out and fell asleep almost immediately, after a cursory observation of Loki, who stared back until the blue patterned eyes closed with a sigh.

"Weather's moving in," Elle commented, taking a seat in her gray chair and picking Charlie up like a baby.

"Cold front from the north," Darren agreed. "Were the clouds building together yet out there?"

"Quite a bit. Nothing as high as the stratosphere, but significant cumulonimbus accumulation." Eleanore tucked her feet under her and leaned against the left arm of the chair, toward the window and Loki, who tensed up then relaxed with visible effort. "I don't think we'll see anything for a half hour or so, though."

Steve inwardly puzzled over the terminology, craning his own neck to take a peek through the glass. He saw low-lying, towering dark clouds with crevasses of blue sky shining through. Even though the sun was in the west, it was darker in that direction, and it was very gray to the north. Distantly, he could see a tower of clouds that blotted out the sky to the east, but they were moving to the side and the south, and they didn't look like there was any rain in them. "Cumulonimbus?" he asked, turning back to Eleanore and Darren, who were talking about forecasts and when they could take Jet out to fly.

"Cumulus, like clouds that build up and accumulate." Elle started the straightforward explanation, brown eyes widening as they met Steve's, a slight frown crossing her mouth as she thought about what she wanted to say. "Nimbus means raincloud."

"The cold front storms are usually the strongest," Darren picked up when she paused, turning as he stirred the simmering pan, "because the front pushes warm air up above it, which creates a lot of compression of warm air and energy."

"Warmth and light means there's energy present," Elle started using her hands as she spoke, sitting forward, getting into the subject. "You know, the brighter or warmer, the more energy there is. So when warm air particles with lots of energy get compressed, they get all riled up and charged, and they move in a smaller space."

"And water in the air gets pushed together into droplets, creating clouds."

"The more energy and air compressed, the bigger the storm."

"And since cold fronts push storms ahead of them, it's sometimes a lot cooler after a storm moves through."

"Does that make sense?" Elle grinned from Steve to Darren and back raising her eyebrows in question.

"Yeah, it does," Steve assured them. And it did, and it was fascinating. He stayed quiet as Elle and Darren went back to talking about supper, processing the new information. He liked how they explained things, and he was a little amused at how they spoke together, picking up where the other left off.

"Rice too?" Eleanore changed the subject, satisfied that Steve wasn't confused. She picked up her backpack and carried it into her bedroom as Darren nodded and grunted confirmation. "Did you have a good day, Loki?"

Loki raised his eyes and waited until she came back out of the room, "It was not intolerable."

"That's good," she smiled at him with the ironic, wry humor she usually used when she was tired or comfortable. "Your clothes are in that bag by the door. I don't know how long they were on the roof, but at least I remembered them before it started raining."

Loki nodded silently, a blank expression on his face, before returning to his book. He was within twenty pages of the end. Steve wondered for a moment whether Loki even wanted the new clothes, since he managed his own styles pretty well already. They'll help him blend in, if that's what he wants.  
Steve watched Darren stir the simmering vegetables and pork, heard Jet heave a sigh, watched the room darken as the cumulonimbus clouds finally converged overhead. Elle inspected the first drops of rain that pattered against the window.

Supper was delicious. Steve hadn't had anything like stir fry before, and the mix of vegetables and spices over rice was an interesting change from the war rations he'd had the past year, and the more traditional European meals Steve had had since waking up in the twenty-first century. He started making a mental checklist of new foods he'd tried so far, chicken alfredo pasta, curry, stir fry. Not much, compared to the different foods he'd noticed in the stores, but he'd only been awake for a few weeks.

Darren had already gone back for seconds, and he was wolfing the steaming food down. Since they had skipped lunch, Steve was hungry as well. He waited a moment, letting everything settle before he too spooned another serving into his bowl. Stealing a glance to the side, Steve noticed that Loki was even scraping the last of the rice up, though he ate slowly, politely, sitting up perfectly straight and staring thoughtfully at the pictures on the wall. Thunder rumbled occasionally, but the walls were pretty well-insulated so not much noise made it through.

Everyone was fairly quiet during the meal, Elle only speaking up to tell Charlie he wouldn't like the spicy meat their food contained. Afterward, Darren's car arrived and he departed back to Stark Tower, where he promised to look into getting Loki a laptop and cell phone.  
The door closed behind him and Eleanore sank into her gray chair with a sigh. "I'm so glad this day is over."

"So are you graduating?" Steve asked as he placed their plates in the dishwasher.

"Yep, all done. Now I just have to wait for the diploma to be mailed here." Eleanore smiled and swiped Charlie into her lap as he was walking by.

"No ceremony?"

"I don't want to go to it." Elle shrugged, "It takes all day, with two thousand people in the lineup."

"That is a lot." Steve could respect her choice not to sit while all those names were read, but he thought he'd probably have gone to his own college graduation.

"Yeah, my mom will be relieved. She didn't go to her ceremony either." Eleanore looked out the window, where rain was falling within flashes of lightning.

Steve realized that Lydia probably wouldn't be able to sit through a long event like that. When they visited, she was almost constantly shifting and uncomfortable, standing and walking around every few minutes. Elle had mentioned her mother's back and hips being sore if she stayed still, an effect of the cancer's treatment wearing on her body. Of course Elle wouldn't want to go to the graduation if her mom couldn't be there.

"Well, we can at least look at these clothes." Elle rose from her chair again and brought the suitcase into the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor and unzipping it. "Wow, nice."

There were a couple of suits folded neatly on top of the case, black and dark gray. One pair of black leather dress shoes and another of brown were next, loafers, styled a bit like the boots Loki habitually wore. Then a pair of gray running shoes and several sets of exercise clothes - thin shirts in white, black, and navy blue, shorts and sweat pants in black and gray. There were two pairs of blue jeans and brown, black, and gray slacks near the bottom on one side, with dress shirts in dark green, gray, white, and tan on the other side. The bottom layer of the suitcase contained undershirts, socks, and underwear, and Elle left those alone.

"Huh." She sat back, surrounded by the clothes she'd taken out. She looked at Loki, "What do you think?"

"I am not likely to wear most of those garments," he said flatly, frowning. The storms were closer now, thunder cracking almost in sync with the lightning. Steve wondered if lightning reminded Loki of Thor.

"Still, it was a thoughtful of Pepper to get these. Come on, I'll help you put them away." Eleanore got up and piled clothes into her arms, heading into Loki's bedroom without a backwards glance.

Loki's frown deepened, but he got up and picked up the open suitcase, disappearing into his room as well. The electric light went on as he walked in, and Steve listened as Eleanore started explaining human clothing care.

"Your suits should last a few wears before we have to dry clean them. I'm hanging them on this side of the closet to keep them from getting wrinkled and messed with. The top couple of drawers can hold your underwear and socks. If you need more pants we can get some for you. There," footsteps on the wooden floor brought Eleanore closer to Loki and the door, "the shirts are done. Want help folding those?"

"I can manage," Loki said testily. Steve pictured the former prince folding his own clothing and came up dry. Then again, he wouldn't have been able to picture sparring with Loki and having it end well if it hadn't happened.

"Okay, I'll put these on the shelf over here." Elle wasn't perturbed by the icy tone.  
Steve bit back a smile and picked up his sketchbook again so it wouldn't look like he was listening when they came back out. The storm was in full force outside the window at his back, with lightning flashes occasionally illuminating the page in front of him with blue-white light. The thunder was loud enough to bother him now, and Steve hid the urge his got to jump at every shock by drawing careful lines from memory.

"Jeeze, it's getting really wild out—" Eleanore was commenting from the other room when the brightest flash lit the room, along with the loudest clap of thunder.

Steve blinked, wondering if the lighting had struck him blind. He couldn't see anything at all, but he could still feel the notebook and pencil clutched tightly in his hands. The power's out. That's all. He stood up slowly and walked forward a few steps, "You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Eleanore responded cheerily just as a white orb of light flared into existence in the doorway of Loki's room. She appeared a second later, squinting around the magic, "I should go check in Mrs. Hirsch."

"You have a flashlight?" Steve glanced around, but the light was wane and there were more shadows than visible objects.

"My phone has one. I'll be right back." Elle turned on a little light from the back of her cell phone and hurried out of the apartment into the pitch black hallway. Jet rose and skirted around the door after her, and a moment later their steps echoed up the stairs.

Loki materialized in the door frame, one eyebrow raised.

"Power's out," Steve notified him dutifully. "It happens sometimes."

"Indeed," the demigod seemed unimpressed. They stood there in silence for a moment, listening to the returning steps until the hall door opened once more and Eleanore and Jet came back inside.

"She was fine," was the report. Then Elle looked at Steve and grinned, "Sketching in the dark?"

Steve looked down and realized he was still holding onto his drawing supplies. "Never know when it'll come in handy."

Elle chuckled, then sighed. "Well, it looks like the whole area is out. They should have it fixed by morning, though. Who wants hot chocolate?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead reaching a pot from the overhead shelf and fetching milk from the darkened refrigerator. "Good thing I don't need a stove for this, huh?" She waved her hand over the pot of milk, and it started steaming and bubbling almost immediately. Elle glanced back at Steve and Loki, "You guys can sit down, you know."

Steve blinked, remembering himself, and walked back to the couch to deposit his notebook and pencil.

"Do that again." Loki's voice commanded from behind him. Steve turned around to find the glowing orb right next to the stove and Loki standing over Eleanore.

"No, the milk will burn." Elle wasn't intimidated, frowning up at him. "Here, I'll boil water." She pulled some from the air to hover over her palm and quickly steamed it away.

Loki watched with narrowed eyes until the water was gone. Then he turned away slightly and imitated what Eleanore had just done. "Is this correct?"

"I don't know," Elle said honestly. "It looks right. Why?"

"You have a very strange magic," Loki informed her seriously. Steve almost grinned, thinking that was a very good description of Eleanore in general.

"Interesting." Elle looked at her hand for a moment, then shook her head, "Want to hand me some mugs?"

Loki blinked slowly at her, then walked around and got three mugs down from their cupboard. "Do you sense water when it is nearby?"

"I've never tried that before." Elle got a cylinder labeled Nestle down from the top of the spice cupboard and added it to each empty cup before sending milk into them with a swirling motion. "Here, Steve."

Steve accepted the hot chocolate and sat on the couch as the other two took their chairs. He stayed quiet, since this was the most he'd heard Loki speak all day. Even in the sparring ring, the demigod had only spoken terse, cautious sentences to inform Steve and Darren of what they were doing wrong.

"When did you begin to learn to manipulate water?" Loki continued his questioning, taking an appraising sip of his beverage. He waved his hand and the orb glowed warmer and brighter, more like a campfire, coming to rest in the middle of the living room floor.

"I was about seven when my powers showed up, although that's much younger than most mutants." Elle picked Charlie up and settled back into her chair. Jet settled back on the couch next to Steve.

Loki was quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead. Then he glanced sideways and narrowed his eyes in a sneer, "And when did you begin manipulating people?"

Steve frowned at the rising hostility, but he let Elle speak for herself.

She did, turning to face Loki as much as she could while remaining seated, "When did you?"

Loki laughed at that in his calculated aheheh. "An excellent point." Steve suddenly felt like he was in the middle of an interrogation. No matter how friendly the demigod's tone was, he couldn't help feeling like Loki was scoping them out for their strengths and weaknesses. It made the skin on his hands tingle in useless anticipation.

"So I have a question," Elle said, shifting a little in her seat. "You know how Thor flies with his hammer?"

"Yes," Loki said tensely, visibly gritting his teeth.

"How does he not crash land all the time? I mean, I saw him slam into aliens and Tony, but he landed pretty gracefully on top of the Empire State Building."

"Ah," Loki's voice was full of forced nonchalance. "Centuries of practice."

"Oh." Elle was quiet for a minute, and Steve felt the atmosphere diffusing a little bit. Loki stared straight ahead into the darkness, his hot chocolate set aside. Steve made himself take a drink. It was good, rich, warm. It brought back memories from when he was younger and his mother had splurged for the drink. "So you've been to Earth before, right?"

"Several times," Loki acknowledged with a nod.

"Back with the Vikings? Really?"

"Midgard was something all Asgardians were expected to understand. Though almost no one took extended trips here." Loki had calmed down, at least outwardly, becoming the same distant alien he'd been earlier with Steve and Darren. There was no crack in that veneer.

"This must be quite a change then," Steve put in gesturing to the apartment, meaning the technology as a whole.

"The present situation is not so different from when I first visited Midgard, actually." Loki's mouth quirked a little at the corners as he made the joke. Steve made himself smile a little in response, although he wasn't feeling very humorous. The thunder and lightning were still going strong and making him as restive as the potential for this conversation to go bad.

"Ha, ha," Elle said sarcastically. "Very funny. But weren't you surprised when you saw what we've accomplished?"

"Not especially," Loki replied flatly. "Your people are still as divided as ever, only with more advanced weapons to carry out your pointless wars."

"That's one way to look at it," Steve agreed. He thought the same thing sometimes, comparing the nineteen forties to the twenty-first century. "But some good has come out of it. Cures for disease, more information, better food…"

"Taller people, certainly," Loki added. "When I was last here, you humans were much shorter. And there is less of an abundance of vermin upon your persons."

"Yeah, everyone used to have fleas and lice." Elle smiled, taking a drink of her hot chocolate.

"Used to?" Steve scratched his head wildly and earned an open laugh from his friend and a raised brow from Loki and Jet. He felt a little better after that, with the warm light falling over the scene and the easier topics.

"So, Loki, how long did you have to go to school? And how old are you?" Steve saw Elle visibly stop herself from launching into a questioning rant, clamping her lips shut and turning her gaze to her subject.

"I attended formal lessons for about twenty of your years, from the time I was four. And I would have to calculate my age out by comparing the Asgardian and Midgardian calendars to be precise, but I would estimate my age at around one thousand of Midgardian years, give or take a century."

"One thousand years." Elle sat back, her eyes going distant. Steve, too, tried to imagine living for that long. He was in his twenties, but he'd lived in two centuries. Still, that much time was incomprehensible. Odin must have been alive when humans were just starting to form cities, and Loki had been born about one thousand years after Jesus.

"What do you do with all that time?" Steve asked, curious as to how Asgardians spent their time.

"Grow and learn. I spent my first couple of hundred years after I was declared a warrior studying magic." Loki seemed amused at Steve's awed tone, doing bad job of hiding a smirk.

"What about the next several hundred years?" Elle asked.

"I learned my princely duties. There were informal lessons, court days, inter-realm meetings like the one at which I met Darren. A century or so ago, Odin started both Thor and I on lessons specifically for ruling." Mentioning his family made Loki tense up again, his shoulders rising slightly toward his ears.

"Do people from other… realms live that long?" Steve asked, trying to change the subject naturally.

"For the most part. Midgard is the notable exception," Loki answered shortly. He was clearly holding back some anger now, and he glanced toward his bedroom as though he wanted to escape.

Steve decided to let him. "Well, I'm beat. Thanks for the hot chocolate, Elle."

"Huh?" She looked up from her thoughtful staring match with the floor. "Oh, it is pretty late, isn't it? I'm tired, too. Here," she rose and held out her hand, "I'll start the dishwasher."

Steve handed her his mug, and Loki did the same, standing with them. Steve headed for the door, stepping around Charlie's waking stretch. "Have a good night. See you tomorrow."

"Oh, hang on a second. Do you want to go visiting tomorrow? And flying?" Eleanore shut the dishwasher door and turned to face him inquisitively.

"Sounds great. Nine?"

"Yes. Okay, goodnight." Elle smiled him out of the apartment. Steve grinned back until the door shut, then he let his face relax.

The day overall had been good, especially considering Loki had tried to get along with them more. Still, Steve couldn't get rid of the niggling dread in the back of his mind. Part of it was because, while Loki had shared some information about himself he hadn't really told them anything personal. He was hiding things. Of course, it made sense that the demigod didn't trust them yet, but he was dangerous. He'd studied magic for hundreds of years, and he'd been trained to physically battle anyone who got in his way. Just a week ago, Loki had been in a murderous rage, killing indiscriminately and specifically targeting Steve and his friends. Steve had to question how much of that was mind control and how much was personal revenge against Thor and his family.

Steve reached for the light switch before he remembered that it wouldn't work. Instead, he felt his way into the bathroom and performed his nightly duties as best he could with the faint glow from the distant street lamp. Then he shuffled to his bedroom between flashes of lightning and lay on his bed with a sigh.

Elle was convinced that healing was key. And today hadn't been too bad. It was just this feeling that Steve couldn't shake, that Loki was always plotting and planning, playing the long game. Waiting for a slip-up or vulnerability to make his move. The guy was smart, an excellent planner, and he was getting to know some of the people who had stopped him in the first place. Really, if he was scheming for escape or something worse, he was in an excellent position to get it. But Steve couldn't set aside Eleanore's gut instinct and Darren's past experiences, along with Thor's stories about his brother. These perspectives showed a totally different Loki, one who was thoughtful, sarcastic, logical, even kind sometimes.  
But people change. Loki had been through some kind of mental upset when he'd found out he was adopted. More than an upset, Thor had said Loki had tried to eradicate an entire planet. Thor had also said they were technically at war, but it was still evidence of instability. Coupled with Loki's power, which Earth still hadn't seen the extent of, that instability could doom the planet.

Steve rolled onto his stomach, trying to break his train of thought. It wouldn't do any good to let his suspicions grow without real evidence, and overtly looking for that evidence would sabotage the healing that Elle was trying to accomplish. And today had seemed like a good first step. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, moving on to a more optimistic outlook.

The thunder was quieter now, and the rain hit the windows less forcefully. Steve felt relieved that at least he wouldn't have to try to sleep through the storm. He focused on relaxing his muscles, which were pleasantly tired from the extra exercise he'd gotten that day. It had been a good day, he reminded himself. It would do no good to only reflect on the bad things. Sparring had been really cathartic, supper was amazing, and their conversation in the dark was interesting to say they least. No one had overreacted.

I'm overreacting about Loki, he thought. The guy was mind controlled. And his parents sent him here against his will. Of course he's slow to warm up. Treat him like a person, give him respect, and he'll get more comfortable.  
With those goals in mind, Steve turned over and fell into an uneasy slumber.

There was nothing, just fog and grayness surrounding him in varying waves. Between the waves was more gray, silence, and a creeping sense of dread. His chest tightened. Then yelling broke through, strangely distant, and suddenly Steve was in the middle of No Man's Land with shells falling into mud, barbed wire on all sides, and men dying in front of him as they all tried to escape with no success. Blood was dropping like rain, gunfire peppered the silence between explosions.

Steve's heart wrenched, and he tried to turn, to get his bearings, to help anyone he could. His feet seemed too slow, his arms wouldn't reach for his shield. Then he was in a village on the outskirts of Paris as bombs fell around the tiny cottages, the fields, the people running through the streets with nowhere to go. His breathing sped up, and he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. It was impossible to tell the farm animals' groans from the people's dying screams as fire and Hydra's blue weapons claimed them and blasted ash thr0ugh the air.

A modern building loomed up ahead, and New York came into focus. The Chitauri were streaking through the air, crawling over cars. Their war ships were crashing through buildings, sending bodies flying to smash into the pavement. Steve could move now, and he ran, trying to catch whoever he could. The aliens kept their distance, screeching at him from afar. A familiar figure crashed down beside him, all orange scales and blue droplets of blood. Jet's eyes fell on him, and Steve's arms tingled as he watched the life and magic fade from the patterned orbs.

He took a deep breath, or tried to, and ran around Jet's prone form to get to the falling people once again.

"Hey Punk," Bucky's voice sent a knife through his heart, and Steve turned to take in his best friend, all clad in his new military uniform, gun drawn, covering the rear. "You forget who your real friends are?"

"What?" Steve tried to ask, but he was distracted by a flash of green and gold and black armor amid the smoke and rubble.

Loki was whirling among the Chitauri, taking their lives with well-placed blows to joints, nerves, crunching bones. He had a focused expression, but Steve could tell he was enjoying the fight. It was the same look he had when they'd sparred. Soon six or seven dead aliens surrounded him, and he paused to catch his breath.

The aliens weren't aliens, though. Steve struggled to comprehend as the bodies somehow grew clearer. What he'd thought were dull-colored, screaming Chitauri were actually Tony, Natasha, Clint, Darren, Banner, Eleanore. They were all lying still, helmets drawn back, limbs distorted, breathing stilled. There was no blood, but that somehow made it worse, like Steve could say something and still get a smile or a witty response or a laugh from the sightless eyes and parted lips.

He couldn't breathe over the tightness in his chest anymore. Bucky was watching him, staring with a worn expression like when Steve got into a fight and he had to pull him out.

Loki was grinning just like at Stuttgart, enjoying the chaos—

"Steve?" Elle's voice brought him back to consciousness like a douse of cold water. Steve opened his eyes to find her concerned, wide gaze. Her mussed, curly hair hung to one side in a dark wave that fell down her right shoulder. Jet was right beside her, calmly watching the goings-on.

"I'm fine," was his first reaction. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, aware suddenly that Elle was in his apartment, in his bedroom, and that that meant she'd either come to him for help or noticed whatever emotions that nightmare had brought to the surface. Judging from her cautious stance and worried expression, it was the latter. Relief at seeing someone alive who should be alive and frustration with having his privacy invaded warred in the background of his mind. For a moment, he wanted to hug her, and the next he just wanted her to leave so he could deal with himself.

"Are you sure?" Elle raised an appraising eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"It was just a dream." Because she already knew about it, there was no point in trying to cover it up. Damage control, instead, was Steve's number one priority.

Elle narrowed her eyes for a moment, and her mouth curved thoughtfully. "Okay," she said doubtfully. She paused, looking around at the room she hadn't been inside since helping Steve move in. Her eyes traveled over the drawn blinds, the drawing desk, the armoir, the upright mirror in the corner, then back to him, "Want me to leave you alone?"

Steve checked the analog clock that hung in dim green numerals on his wall. Two-fifty. "Shouldn't you try to get back to sleep?"

"I don't know if I can," Eleanore shrugged, her large shirt that said 'Bibliophile' waving with the motion. "At least not right away."

"You should try, though." She'd gone the last few days without proper sleep. She had to fly later today; she should be alert for that.

Eleanore sighed, "Okay." She turned to go, then stopped at the bedroom door, "What're you going to do?"  
Steve didn't look at her right away, staring at the wall and trying to come up with a convincing story that didn't involve punching his cares away for hours at the gym. "I'll draw for a while."

"That sounds like a good idea." She nodded, hair bobbing a bit. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Sweet dreams," Steve said, hoping it didn't sounds sarcastic. Elle grinned at him because she knew what he meant either way, and slipped out of the apartment, Jet trailing after her like a shadow.

There was no way Steve could sit still any longer. His bed was too soft, the apartment too quiet, and he felt jumpy and strained. He rose and donned his exercise clothes quickly, draining a bottle of water as a nod to health before he turned on the lamp in the living room to make it look like he was still at home once he left. He laced up his new running shoes that had come in the mail. He'd bought some cheap ones from a clothing store, but Eleanore and Darren had both told him that higher quality ones were better for him if he was going to run long distances, and with as much as Steve ran the old ones were already falling apart. These new ones were nondescript gray with black detailing, and Elle had said she liked that model because they were very quiet. They were certainly different from any shoes from the forties, with flexible soles and support for Steve's heels and feet.

Steve stood from where he'd knelt to tie his laces, when the door handle turned. He froze, caught, as Elle walked back in with a brown leather notebook and a gold and brown pen in her hands.

"Dream journal," she explained, stopping at the sight of Steve's workout gear and the guilty expression he could feel creeping over his face. "You don't have to use it, but I picked one up at the bookstore today while I was returning my textbooks."

"Uh, thanks." Steve stepped forward and took the items from her. "These look… nice."

"It's no problem. I'll go back to bed now." Eleanore seemed hurt. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and she was leaving more quickly than she ever had before, no smile, no closing remark. Steve felt even worse about deceiving her when she just wanted to help him. Then her lips drew downward, and she seemed to change her mind. "You know, I can tell when you haven't been sleeping well too. Okay? It's my job to notice. So if you're going to go somewhere to exercise your stress out, that's fine, but don't act like everything's perfect. Not with me." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm really tired and a little too emotionally involved to discuss this right now, but we're going to have a talk about it later. One-on-one. Got it?"

Steve stood up straighter, realizing this was as close to anger as she'd come with him so far. "Yes ma'am."

Elle gave him the look as she opened the hall door, "Don't call me ma'am, Steve. And be safe, okay?"

"I will." Steve tried to grin reassurance, but he felt it fall flat as she closed the door and walked back to her home. He looked at the notebook and pen, and carried them in to his desk, setting them down and heading out the door.

He didn't' punch anything, instead running his hardest, fastest ten miles ever and finishing with a quick set of weights at the gym. He went back to his apartment as the eastern horizon turned grayish pink, and he was showered and dressed by five thirty. Shaking one of the tumblers filled with milk and protein powder, Steve sat down at his desk and looked at the notebook with a sigh.

He didn't want to write down every nightmare he had because they were mostly just memories or things he dreaded pictured in detail. They were also numerous, and writing each one down would take a lot of time. But the one last night had featured Loki in a seriously bad light, so Steve decided to outline it, at least, and just tell Elle about the disturbing parts verbally. He remembered them really clearly anyway.  
He opened the notebook and immediately realized the high quality of its lined pages. This wasn't just something Elle had picked up, it was a thoughtfully chosen gift that she knew he'd like. The pen, too, looked like quality, and it and the notebook were clearly meant to go together, even if they hadn't' been packaged that way. Steve grinned as he took off the cap, thinking of the ballpoint pens that had been expensive in the forties, so much so that he was used to writing with…

A fountain pen. This was a fountain pen, steel nibbed to a narrow point, fitting as naturally into his hand as a pencil.

Steve just sat still for a second, realizing he hadn't given Eleanore nearly enough credit, for as much as she was able to read him discreetly. He'd never mentioned fountain pens, and she'd gotten him a really nice one. He'd never mentioned liking dark, full, bitter coffee like he'd had in France, but she'd pointed it out to him on their first grocery shopping trip, saying that it might taste familiar. She understood without asking when Steve wanted to talk and when he didn't. She kept snacks around because both Steve and Darren got hungry all the time. She'd directed him to forties style furniture, a record player, and her housewarming gift had been jazz records from the nineteen twenties and big bands from the thirties. It wasn't just Steve she did this to, either. Grocery shopping trips contained a commentary about what Darren liked, how her mother would enjoy this type of cookie, a spare pack of candy for her college friends to have when they came over. Phone calls to her mom every day they didn't visit, reminding Darren to eat when he got focused on a solution, making Peggy a cup of tea as soon as they walked into the room. She was a subtle master at discovering what people liked and needed and making them feel at home.

And she must have figured out I have trouble sleeping a long time ago. Of course she had. And so, of course, she was frustrated when he tried to hide his problems from her. Sometimes she knew Steve better than he knew himself these days. He'd known that, and respected her insight, but he'd never realized how far it went.

Steve wondered how much Fury knew about this hidden trait Elle had, and whether or not it was a reason Hill had recommended her. Probably so. SHIELD would have wanted to make their newly awakened Super Soldier feel right at home, and someone like Eleanore Engman was the best person to help with that.

She was hopefully still asleep at six o'clock, since she'd had an interrupted night. Steve could set things right later, but he could lay the groundwork now. He got to work writing down the pieces of the dream he wanted to talk to her about, enjoying the feel of his new writing materials as he went.  
He finished within half an hour, then added more snippets of past dreams for the sake of thoroughness. The battle scenes were common, he found, which was to be expected. What wasn't expected, and what he didn't write down right away, was the recurrence of his own death in the ice. Steve hadn't noticed how frequent these were because they were all a bit different. Sometimes he was watching the world change through a clear window of ice, and sometimes the frost bit into his skin and made him writhe with pain. Always, though, they ended with the breathless descent into blackness, the receding of the sun, and cold bubbles of air that never met the surface. Always, there was the feeling of finality, when it was time for him to die.

I'll tell Elle about those, he decided firmly. But he didn't want to write them down.

A knock sounded through Steve's quiet thoughts. He picked up the notebook and pen and went to answer the door.

"Hey," Elle greeted him. She was dressed and showered, but it didn't look like she'd slept any more. There were the dark circles that were becoming normal, only today they were more pronounced, and every so often her gaze would go oddly distant. Her little metal fold-up cart was beside her filled with cloth bags. She looked him over and gave a half smile, "Loki's not out of his room yet. I left him a note, and Jet's staying to watch him. Want to go grocery shopping?"

"Sure." Steve grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and locked his apartment behind them. That cart could hold most of the heavy groceries, and the store was just a few blocks away.

"Want to grab some coffee on the way?" he offered, remembering there was a place called Caribou that smelled pretty good every time they passed it. They had plenty of time before nine o'clock, and visiting hours at the home started at nine thirty. Immediate family members could get in at all hours, but Steve figured they were taking Loki, and he wasn't sure the front desk ladies besides Marcy would consider Steve a family member of anyone there, immediate or otherwise.

"That sounds good." Elle was still a little subdued, but that could have been because she was tired.  
Steve let the silence continue until they had ordered their coffees— a plain medium roast and a turtle mocha with and extra shot of espresso — to start a conversation. "I've got it." He paid with his debit card over a quiet protest from Eleanore. He brushed it off and they left the shop and walked toward the grocery store once again.

"We can sit in here," Elle pointed into a public alley garden that was enclosed on three sides by buildings. She pulled a device out of her pocket and Steve recognized the scrambler that would make their conversation truly private.

Steve followed her to a black metal mesh bench beside a lilac bush. The metal cart sat beside them, a tree stood above, and the lilacs were fading from bloom.

"I already got over… earlier," Eleanore began, furrowing her brow and looking straight ahead. "You didn't have to make it up to me."

"I know," Steve assured her. "But still. Sorry."

Elle shrugged. "Did you like the pen?"

"Yeah, it's great. Both of these are. Thank you." Steve handed her the notebook and took a sip of coffee. "How did you know?"

She smiled absently, "Darren likes fountain pens, too. He has a whole collection, and he mentioned that you probably used to use them all the time. So I looked for one in the store yesterday, and I Googled what kind of nibs were common in the forties, and I found a steel one. We can get more ink online, and I put a converter in it so you can refill it really easily."

Steve pictured the whole process and shook his head. "I never would have thought of that."

"Yes you would, if it was a gift."

"Well, I used your gifts," Steve said, cutting to the meat of the matter. "Do you want to read it?"

"Only if you want me to. Otherwise, we can just talk."

"Go ahead." Steve felt apprehensive, but he knew he should share last night's dream especially with her, and it would be easier if she just read what had happened.

Elle opened the book and scanned quickly through the lines. Her expression didn't change no matter what part she read, so Steve had a hard time gauging her reaction. When she was finished, she gave him back the notebook and stared across the small courtyard for a moment in silence. "Do you know, I love lilacs."

"You do?" Steve wondered if there was going to be a metaphor or a story behind that statement that would help him understand his dreams better.

"Yeah. There are huge lilac bushes on my family's farm, all along the driveway. My grandma planted them when they built their house. When I was younger, my cousins and I would crawl through little tunnels in the branches and make a fort."

"That's…" Steve trailed off, not sure where he was going and not sure where Elle had gone. "That sounds nice."

"It was." Elle sipped her mocha thoughtfully and looked past Steve to the bush behind him. "So, do you think this thing with Loki will work out?"

"I don't know yet," he answered honestly. "I know you're doing everything you can, but it's just too soon to say. He's going to take a long time to trust us with anything personal, and it's hard to trust him until he does."

"He saved my life, though." Elle pointed out.

"He has to keep us alive. But yeah, he did." Steve frowned, thinking of the other enchantments. "We're just so tied to him, it's hard not to feel trapped myself, I guess. His life depends on this working, but he doesn't want it to succeed."

"Not yet. But maybe he will. He's still affected by the scepter, you know."

"Where is he with that? Could they take back his control?"

"Mmm… I don't think so." Elle looked at the sky, where a few wispy clouds were meandering. "I think it's making him have bad dreams too, though."

"Seems like everyone has that problem," Steve muttered.

"Lots of people do. It's a common thing." Elle paused and looked Steve over. He wondered what she saw. "But tell me more about your stuff. We don't get to talk one on one much anymore."

So Steve told her about the recurring dreams, and about the other ones he hadn't written down. He told her about Bucky dying over and over again, and appearing later in modern times just out of the corner of Steve's eye. He talked about nightmares of Peggy's death and him being unable to be there when it happened. He explained the battle scenes in short sentences because he never wanted anyone else to imagine something so awful. He even mentioned the recollections coming up when he was awake, although he didn't tell her that they were worse when he was alone. Eleanore listened until he was done, nodding occasionally and asking questions to make sure she understood.

"So that's it." Steve held up the notebook and shrugged one shoulder. "Now you know."

"Yes I do," Elle said, sitting back. "Do you feel any better for telling me?"

"Some," Steve admitted. He felt lighter, like he was sharing a physical weight he'd previously been carrying by himself.

"Your memories are really vivid," was the next comment, made in an analytical tone.

"They got clearer after the serum."

"We should ask Bruce about that. But for now, is there anything I can do to help?"

It was Steve's turn to stare across the garden. "You do help. Inviting me over, talking to me. Teaching me new things. I don't know what else you could do."

"We could knock out the walls of the hallway and make one big apartment."

"Well, short of that." Steve had to chuckle at that joking suggestion. "Anyway, it's getting late. Should we shop?"

"Sure, lead the way." They both got up and deposited their coffees in the trash can on their way out of the garden.

"I don't have a grocery list." Steve thought of the potential problem when they were almost to the store.

"Oh crap," Eleanore's eyes widened, "neither do I."

"You were the one who wanted to go grocery shopping," he laughed outright, incredulous. Elle always had a list.

"It was a spur of the moment thing. I'll just get what I know I need. Milk, bread, eggs, oatmeal, brown sugar, peanut butter, regular butter, chicken…"

Steve followed, mentally marking off his own items and smiling to himself. It might be another good day.


	16. Visiting

The sunny main room was relatively quiet when Loki emerged. Charlie rubbed against his leg as he took in the scene. The dragon-dog was on the couch, apparently asleep, but Loki did not trust appearances. Eleanore’s bedroom door was ajar, displaying an empty desk that contained her computer, a tall mug of writing utensils, and a notebook. The kitchen was dark and spotless, with no dishes or pans to signal Loki had missed breakfast. The clock on the wall read eight, so he wasn’t late for the plans laid out the night before. The bathroom door was also open and dim. There was nowhere, really, in this tiny space for a person to hide. 

Loki mentally shrugged and did not question his good fortune. He’d slept well the night before, and he was feeling at least interested in the day ahead. “Visiting” was not something he looked forward to, but seeing the dragon fly was. Asgardians hunted dragons every few hundred years or so for sport, but Loki had never gotten the chance to participate in the activity. The last time one had occurred, he had been in the middle of a strict routine that was meant to teach himself and Thor about ruling. Dragons were solitary creatures, and they avoided the Vanir as much as the Vanir tried to avoid them. Thus, Loki had only caught glimpses of them from afar, or from the back of a Chitauri flying ship. Watching one move was something very few people saw and lived to tell the tale, and no one had ridden a dragon before in recorded history. Loki was curious as to how this situation came about.

Plenty of time to reflect on that later. He shook himself from his thoughts and walked quickly into Eleanore’s bedroom. The dragon merely watched through half-lidded eyes as Loki picked up the foldable computer and opened it. The screen came to life immediately with a picture of Darren laughing in what looked like a place of Midgardian scientific study, then it changed to one of the cat leaning over the couch, eyes large as it stalked the camera holder. Loki frowned at the apparent lack of options. He knew this machine was used for much more than a display of pictures. As though it was mocking him, the screen went dark.

He moved his focus to the non-imagery on the silver body. There were letters and symbols, some familiar and some a mystery. There were buttons on the side, and ports for attaching to other electronics. Cautiously, Loki hit one of the keys, and the screen lit up again, this time scrolling to a blue background with a small picture of Eleanore above the words  Eleanore Engman , which was above  Password , which was above a blank white box with a vertical black line that appeared and disappeared at regular intervals.

Loki hit a letter key and a black dot appeared in the white box. So not only was there a password, but Loki would have to figure out the specific sequence of symbols in this language, which could include numbers and other characters. He sighed in frustration.  Clever, mortal . Just for good measure, Loki typed C harlie and  Darren , but the computer told him these were incorrect. He used his senses to feel around the components, their flow and workings, but he could find no data without a spell. Magic might be able to break into the machine, but Loki had not tried it on any delicate Midgardian electronics yet, and any signs of tampering would inevitably lead back to him. 

He decided to wait for a better opportunity, then tried to figure out how to make the computer screen go back to normal. Pressing every key didn’t seem like a good idea, so he waited until the screen went black again, then turned it back on. The message of an incorrect password was gone, and the pictures had returned.

Next, Loki picked up the notebook and thumbed through it. The first page was titled simply Journal, and dated for the day Loki had returned to this miserable planet. Underneath, in slanted, sharp handwriting, was a brief account of the first night from Eleanore’s perspective. “Loki’s angry… Steve is worried… Darren and Nat on our side… Fury - unsure.”  “Angry,” Loki thought, was an understatement. He hated being here, and hated his mortal captors even more. But in lieu of language strong enough to express the blinding red that overcame his vision at the very mention of obedience or Odin or Thor, “angry” could cover her perception.

The next two days were marked similarly, and included Loki helping scout, saving Eleanore’s life, charging at Thor, and having conversations. He was amused to find other accounts of the Captain’s reactions to certain things Loki had said. There was no assumed message from anything Loki said or did. The way Eleanore wrote was not meant to derive meaning, but rather to keep the facts straight. There were also small drawings of no apparent consequence in the margins around almost every page. Flowers, Jet, the Captain’s shield, a likeness of Darren’s helmet, a cat’s eye. Eleanore must have outlined them when she was thinking.

Loki looked around a noted that it was nearing nine o’clock already. His cautious examination of the computer had taken a while, and then getting used to reading English in Eleanore’s scrawl had taken longer. He arranged the notebook and the computer exactly as they had been on the desk and walked into the living room. The dragon eyed him again, but Loki had never heard of one of them speaking or communicating with people in any way. Then again, he’d never heard of anyone riding a dragon either before he came to this backward realm. He would just have to rely on the dragon’s nonchalance to keep his snooping secret.

There was coffee in the clear pot, and a note on the lid. 

“Loki, 

I went for groceries with Steve. We’ll be back by 9. There’s oatmeal with instructions on the container in the cupboard, or anything you find in the fridge.”

~Elle

So that was where she was. As usual, she and the Captain were overly-trusting to leave him alone, although the magic binding him would prevent escape. That magic was the one hindrance to an otherwise perfect situation: rest, food, and captors who were too dull to figure out any plots he might create. More disturbing, though, was the fact that she already knew he liked coffee enough to leave important messages on it. Loki debated putting the drink back and pretending he had never seen it, so she wouldn’t get ideas about how well she knew him. He reconsidered, though, because a false sense of security for her was an advantage for him. He poured a mug and added sugar and creamer, then turned to his food options.

He did not want the oatmeal mush. Although the flavor was not bad, its consistency was just like the food Asgardian patients ate in the medical ward. There was a bit of the leftover stir-fry in a container in the refrigerator, so Loki heated it with magic and grabbed a fork from the drawer. The vegetables did not go well with the coffee, but he ate them anyway. By themselves, they were good. He got a glass of water and left the coffee for after the meal. 

The door handle turned as he took his first sip of the cooled beverage. “Hey, did you eat? Good.” Eleanore glanced at his empty bowl and pushed a little metal cart inside. She was wearing a white t-shirt and blue shorts with old shoes. The Captain silently followed her inside and picked up a couple of bags before heading out the door to his own rooms. Eleanore darted around the kitchen, opening cupboard door and setting things inside, moving similar items around, reorganizing the refrigerator. “I got some cold coffee creamer if you’d like to try it some time. I never get it for just me because I don’t drink it fast enough before it goes bad.” She held up a bottle that said  White Chocolate Mocha before placing it beside the milk on the door. “Does anything sound good for supper? Maybe we’ll go out.”

“I am not familiar enough with your realm’s cuisine to make a suggestion.” Loki finished his coffee with a gulp and watched where she placed everything. The spice cupboard also held two boxes of something called pasta and two jars of Alfredo, along with multi-colored rice. Directly above the stove was a very small cupboard that revealed ‘popcorn’ and a bag of coffee, and Eleanore set three small cans of cat food there as well. Crinkling bags of ‘chips’ went on top of the refrigerator and a box of granola protein bars went above the sink. Frozen bags of vegetables and packages of meat were logically put in the freezer, and fresh greens ones were in a small drawer in the refrigerator. The little closet off the kitchen was stocked with cans and potatoes and onions and rolls of furrowed paper like the one that hung over the sink. The shelf that held the warming box also took boxes of cereal, bags of sugar and flour, and other unfamiliar items like ‘baking soda’ and liquid vanilla. A couple of bottles of the sparkling grape juice, one green, one reddish, sat under these with a couple of pieces of Midgardian machinery with silver blades and plastic cups and ‘peanut butter’. Her movements were quick and precise, and the process only took a few minutes total. 

“There,” Eleanore said, straightening and folding the cloth bags, crumpling the plastic ones. “We’re a little late, but it shouldn’t matter. Did you have a good morning? That shirt looks nice.”

“It was well enough. And thank you.” He wore one of the buttoned tunics from ‘Pepper’ and the black set of trousers and shoes. Everything fit very well, and Loki felt airy and comfortable. He was fond of mornings started early, with dawning twilights spent riding through fields or walking along quiet back roads. Breakfasts in Frigga’s garden… Stop right there. That was never yours and never will be again.

“I’m going to start getting up and exercising over at the gym. Would you be interested in that?” Eleanore got some small plastic bags from a drawer and bread from beside the warming box. She reached slices of meat and cheese from the refrigerator, not looking at Loki for an answer. The cat trilled by her foot, and she lifted her leg to absently pet him.

“Perhaps,” He couldn’t imagine sparring with her the same way he had with Darren and Rogers, but perhaps he could learn something of her magic. He could certainly stand to build his strength again on the machines meant for stronger mortals. He would even use the clothing the mysterious Pepper had donated for that purpose, although Loki would avoid any trousers that went above his ankles. 

“Cool. Steve said something about taking your running sometime, probably really early. He’ll bring up the details in the car.” She had put together several sandwiches and was placing them in a small, square, dotted bag over water bottles and packs of ice she took from the freezer. “Picnic lunch for when we go flying,” she explained, zipping the container closed. “Ready, Jet?”

The dragon leapt down from the couch and walked sedately to the door as Eleanore refilled the cat’s food and water and picked him up for a goodbye embrace. Loki followed them from the apartment and waited while she locked the door behind them. The Captain emerged from his apartment and accompanied them down the stairs to the vehicle area. 

“I’m driving, so who calls shotgun?” Eleanore asked, putting the food in the back seat and allowing the dragon to leap inside. 

“I do,” Loki said immediately, though he knew already this unfamiliar term would in no way involve a weapon. 

“Go ahead,” the Captain said affably, getting in the back seat behind the driver. His knees almost hit the seat in front of him, but Eleanore pulled it forward a bit to give him room. 

Loki took his cue and got in the front passenger seat, relishing the space it gave his long legs. He put the strapping device on because he figured he would be ordered to otherwise, and then they were underway. 

“Loki said ‘perhaps’ to going to the gym in the morning,” Eleanore began after a few minutes of silence. “I’ll get up at five to run and meet you there at six.”

“Sounds good,” the Captain replied. He was leaning against the arm rest on the door and looking out the window when Loki glanced back. “Loki, do you want to run with me before that, maybe around the neighborhood?”

“Certainly.” Loki couldn’t very well say no to the offer, not if he wanted to regain some of the strength he’d lost being a prisoner. Besides, he’d always enjoyed endurance conditioning that did not rely on strength alone. He wondered how fast the Captain could go, and whether he would be offended if Loki ran ahead on his own.

“Four thirty sound good?” 

“Yes.” Loki knew from his sleepless night that dawn would begin a little after that time. The streets would be mostly deserted, allowing the two of them to unleash their full strength without drawing unwanted attention.

The rest of the ride was quiet, ending at a large building with many windows and a couple security guards stationed at its entrance. Loki frowned in thought as he exited the vehicle. Was this where her mother worked? Was it an extension of SHIELD? Were the guards there because he was in attendance, or was this a valuable building?

“They added the guards after the aliens,” Eleanore explained both to Loki and the Captain. “Mom says it helps prevent escapes, too.”

Escapes? Loki thought. Was this a prison? It looked nothing like any dungeon he’d ever seen, but Midgardians were apparently soft with their troublemakers. 

“Here, Loki.” Eleanore handed him an access card with his picture and his name on it. The picture was from his imprisonment on the battleship aircraft, but the background had been removed so it just looked like an image of his head and shoulders. The name read only  Loki.  He wondered if they had done that from lack of knowledge, or out of deference to the family who no longer claimed him. He shrugged it off as they approached the doors, and mimicked Eleanore and the Captain as they showed their own identification to the guards, who opened the doors with the press of a remote. 

They were admitted to a high-ceilinged room with a desk in its center at which an old woman sat. The floor was white tile, and the walls were painted a light shade of gray, hung with paintings and dispersed with benches and plants.

“It’s about time you showed up,” the old woman said as she caught sight of Eleanore. “They’ve been worried about you two. And who might this be?”

“Hi Marcy, sorry it’s been a while.” Eleanore walked up to the desk and leaned against it. “This is Loki. We just started working together, and I thought Mom might like to meet him.”

“Oh, I know about that,” the woman narrowed her eyes at him and scrutinized his entire being with a glance. She smiled after a moment and stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Loki.”

Loki forced himself to step forward and return the gesture. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” 

“Hi Marcy,” Rogers smiled and nodded. “How’ve they been?”

“Oh, pretty well. Lydia’s having a constant IV, I’m sure you’ve heard.” Eleanore nodded at that, and the old woman continued. “I haven’t heard anything about them yet today, but I think they’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Eleanore smiled and walked toward a set of reinforced doors. “We won’t keep them long, probably.”

“Tell them I say hi,” Marcy pressed a button under her desk as Loki and the Captain walked away, opening the doors. Whatever else this place was, it had a high level of Midgardian security.

The doors led into a wide hallway painted white with yellow carpeting. Doors lined the walls, and a few elderly people walked along, whispering to each other as the visitors approached. Some of them paused to pat Jet’s ears, which he allowed, but they only smiled unfamiliarly at Eleanore, who returned the expression and kept walking. The doors had numbered plates beside them, some of which had names. Eleanore paused at the one labeled  132: Engman . 

“Mom?” She knocked in quick succession on the gray panel. 

“Come in, ” a woman’s voice called from inside. 

Eleanore turned the handle and let herself into the room first, holding a hand behind her to keep Loki and the Captain back. “You okay with multiple visitors today?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, babe. You already asked me that.” The voice and inflections were markedly similar to Eleanore’s. 

Eleanore straightened and glanced back. “Just making sure,” she said before heading into the bright, sunlit room. 

Loki followed, sensing nervousness on the part of the Captain. He walked into the room, prepared to meet the woman from the pictures, with the chestnut hair and dark eyes of her daughter.

What he found was a thin shadow of that person. Eleanore stood next to her mother, her healthy features enhancing the clear message that the other woman’s body sent:  I am dying. Loki controlled himself to prevent the visible recoil and gape that the sight caused. His gut twisted. He’d never seen anyone so ill before, and he wondered in the back of his mind if this was some Midgardian disease that the other two were immune to, and whether or not he could contract it. Eleanore’s mother was thin and frail, and obviously weak. The needle and tube running from her arm made her look like a wisp held to Earth by a clear tether. Gaunt and pale, her dark hair and eyes made her a specter summoned back from the dead.

“Hi Steve,” the phantom said, her voice the only robust thing about her. “And you must be Loki.”She focused on back to him, and he forced himself to stand tall.

“I am,” he said, stepping forward for the handshake. He would  not show fear, especially in response to someone who obviously could not cause him harm. “And you must be the Lady Lydia. Eleanore has spoken of you.” Loki plastered on his most courteous fake smile and set his body to show he was at ease. 

“Such nice manners!” Lydia Engman smiled, suddenly the older, ghostly image of her daughter. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Loki took a seat as she gestured, intent on keeping the woman smiling so he could get used to her appearance more easily. His reactions were already calming, becoming familiar with the subtle differences between the mother and daughter. Lydia’s eyes were very slightly smaller, her mouth slightly bigger, her ears rounder, her cheek bones less angular. She was a bit shorter than her daughter as well, and her hair was straight and cut short to frame her face. 

These distinctions helped Loki distance himself from his shock. By the time Lydia was done greeting the Captain and everyone was seated, he could look at her without cringing. 

“So, how were finals?” Lydia asked her daughter. 

Eleanore lit up and took a deep breath, launching into a detailed explanation of everything she thought she’d done right and wrong, the professors, and the ‘checking out’ process. “I’ll get my diploma sometime next week. Then I can hang it on the wall and go fight crime.”

“I heard SHIELD’s letting you pass the agent’s exam,” Lydia smiled proudly. Loki listened to that with interest. Did it mean he’d assist ‘crime fighting’? Would he gain SHIELD’s trust through simple tasks like taking down Midgard’s criminals?

“Yeah, but no solo missions,” Eleanore assured her. “I’ll probably work with the Avengers a lot.” Loki’s hopes were dashed at that, but he shrugged it off. He had to gain that team’s trust as well, so he might as well start as soon as possible.

“Just be careful,” Lydia sighed, pulling her daughter in for an embrace. Loki looked away, more uncomfortable with displays of affection than with diseased humans. 

“I’ll go see Peggy quick,” Rogers rose to leave.

“Elle, you might want to go with,” Lydia suggested. “She’s been a little… off these past few days. I don’t know how she’ll respond to Steve.”

“Okay,” Eleanore stood with Rogers, then looked at Loki. “Do you want to come with us?”

“He can stay and keep me company,” Lydia said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Loki considered it and accepted. “Of course.” It was better than going along to be ambushed by another old or diseased person who he had to control his reactions around and get used to. He looked up and found both the Captain and Eleanore giving him searching gazes. “I can hardly leave this facility with so many guards, now can I?” he teased them.

“Pfft, if only that were true.” Eleanore rolled her eyes and smiled. “We’ll be back soon. Have fun.” She pushed the Captain gently out of the room.

Loki heard their footsteps receding without a word, and he figured Eleanore had gauged his hearing distance. He was surprised at their trust again, but they probably figured even he wouldn’t hurt a sick woman. They were right, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have any fun. He turned back to Lydia with a disarming smile. “Your daughter is a  very generous roommate.” He let his tone imply every possibility the words could contain.

Lydia scrutinized him in much the same way Marcy of the front desk had. “How’s my old bed? Comfy?”

That caught him off guard. He laughed, actually impressed. “It is nearly too short for me. Your desk is a comfortable height, however.”

“It was always a little tall for my liking.” Lydia smiled benevolently at him. “I’m glad you like it. Is Elle still painting?”

“I have only been with her a few days,” Loki replied. “As far as I can tell, she  has painted.” He looked around and found Jet staring at him from the bed. Decided to try a bit more fun. “There is one in my room of the dragon in flight.”

“I wondered if she ever finished that.” Lydia grinned over at Jet, who jumped down and came to sit beside her. She petted his head and scratched his ears. “Are you ever going to stop trying to shock me, or is this how you have a conversation?”

“My apologies,” Loki adopted a humble pose, his hand over his heart, eyes downcast. “Eleanore did not tell me how perceptive you are.”

“She didn’t tell you I have cancer, either, did she?” The older woman who, Loki had to remind himself, was a thousand years younger than he was, looked up at her IV bag. She met his gaze again, challenging.

“She did not,” Loki admitted. 

“So that’s why you froze when you walked in here. I figured.” Lydia shrugged and smirked a little. 

“Forgive me. We do not have such maladies where I am from.” Loki mentally referenced Asgard, thinking that the Jotun monsters might have diseases he’d never heard of.

“It’s fine. Do you want to know about it? Elle doesn’t like to bring it up. Not since I’ve gotten worse.” A sadness entered her eyes as she spoke, but she blinked it away.

“If you will tell me, I will learn.” Loki liked this woman, despite her daughter. Or perhaps because of her. The juxtaposition of two similar women, one who could control him and one who could not, both with straightforward, entertaining personalities made him realize how he liked speaking with people just for amusement. Over the centuries, he’d drawn back from Thor’s friends and struck out on his own, saying what he had to to be accepted, largely existing alone. He did not care overly much for the mortals’ acceptance at this point, since they distrusted him anyway. He could say what he wanted, and thus far they seemed to accept it. “Have you been ill a long time?”

“Two years,” Lydia replied. “Since right before Elle started college. It’s a long-term thing.”

Two years would seem a long time to be diseased, even to Loki. “That must be difficult.”

“It wasn’t too bad at first. I lived at home — the apartment — and came here for treatment. They kept finding tumors, though, and I moved in here so I could get the twenty-four hour care. You know, from someone other than my working, college student daughter.” Lydia’s smile turned forlorn. “I know you don’t like her much yet, but you would if you saw how she dropped everything the minute she found out I was sick. At least now she can visit and live a normal life.”

“Normal is a relative term,” Loki muttered, earning a laugh. He ignored Lydia’s boast of her daughter’s selflessness. Of course a mother would be proud of that. Frigga used to praise him for the same thing, long ago, when he would suspend his plans to help with some royal duty. 

“Normal for her. A life she loves.” Lydia shook her head and drew a deep breath. “But anyway. How do you like Earth so far? I’ve never spoken to a prince before. Is there some etiquette I should follow?”

“You are not speaking to a prince now,” Loki informed her, fighting back a scowl and scornful tone. “Any etiquette will suffice for a disgraced non-royal.”

“Sorry,” Lydia apologized, laying a hand on his arm. Loki glared at it, but she didn’t take it back until he met her eyes and found real remorse there. “I didn’t know about that. Elle just said you were staying with her for a while. Learning about Earth and the value of life.”

“So you know it is a sentence I am serving,” Loki said tightly. “Did she tell you what I did to deserve it?” He’d finally found an opportunity for shock, and he wasn’t even going to be able to enjoy it. 

“No.” 

“Well, she is charitable with her discretion.” Loki warmed up, letting a gleeful smile creep onto his face, even though he didn’t feel the emotion. “I tried to commit genocide to an entire realm — my apologies, a planet. Then I… escaped.” Loki skipped over his failed attempt at death and kept the story horrifying. “I met someone with more power than I had at the time, and I came to Earth to conquer the planet for him. I brought the army to New York and directed them to destroy it.” He bared his teeth in a grin and met Lydia’s wide eyes, waiting for potential screams or any reaction.

She just looked at him for a moment, her hand still on his arm. Then she looked down at it, and back up to him. “Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”

Loki’s mouth fell open before he could stop it. He gaped a moment at the sheer  audacity of this tiny mortal, frail as a stalk of grain with a metal spine. “I beg your pardon?”

“I read the damage report. The real one, not the public one. The destruction was contained to three city blocks, and you only sent a few of those big-ass ship things at a time. The ground forces were easy to kill. Some were taken down by unarmed civilians. Sure, you picked a good area to attack from, but the damage was so limited. You could have done a lot worse.” Lydia sounded just like Eleanore when she was explaining something, no nonsense and a steady tone making her sound very informed for someone who wasn’t actually there. “Tony even said there were tons more troops waiting on the other side of the portal. Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for my signal,” Loki growled, finally tossing her hand away. “I did not believe the eight mortals sent against me would triumph against such a force. They should not have. I meant to obliterate them first. Your daughter and the rest.”

“Good luck with that,” Lydia said calmly. “Elle’s tougher than she looks. And anyway, you’re lying. If you wanted to obliterate them, you would have sent everything at once and  done  it. No, you didn’t want that guy controlling you to win.” She stopped and gazed at him, lips tightening in a frown. “You didn’t want to be a puppet.”

“I am a god,” Loki said, feeling his rage building at her statements of the truth. His mind was spinning, sluggish, trying to come up with appropriate responses. His control had not slipped past bearable levels, not like the incident with Thor in the magical cell. He was not even shouting. This woman was safe from physical harm. He  would hurt her, though. “You think to know my mind? I plan your daughter’s death every day, every moment I can. She will die miserably, slowly. Tortured in every way I can find.”

“If you say so,” Lydia said agreeably. “Why don’t you sit and calm down before they come back? We can talk about something else.”

Loki noticed for the first time that he was standing. When had that happened? He moved the chair out of reach (out of  his reach, to avoid any substantial confrontation) and sat again. He breathed slowly, waiting until the rage left him drained. It happened more quickly than ever before, leaving his thoughts slow and pointless, his body weary. Lydia was sitting, waiting for him to speak again. He couldn’t think of much to discuss, other than obvious queries he had about her illness. “How long do you have left to live?” He spoke the question not to bring pain, but because he was curious and didn’t care what she reported back to Eleanore at this point. She was fearless, and even peaceful when faced with her mortality.  Perhaps it is a mortal trait, because they die so easily.

“The doctors say a year, tops.” Lydia sat back comfortably, fiddling with the IV cord. “Probably less, though. The cancer’s all over my body now, and the treatments I get here only slow it down. If I stopped those, I’d have a couple of months.”

Loki pondered knowing the date of his own death, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d felt something like that in the instant before letting go on the bridge, but it was a moment in time. This was days and months just to wait for such news, and then more time to wait for the end. “I apologize for my overreaction.”

“It’s okay.” Lydia stood, holding onto the silver stand her medicine rested upon. She wore, Loki noted, loose gray trousers and pink running shoes with a yellow shirt under a purple knitted jacket. She walked over to a counter, taking the stand with her.

“May I assist you?” Loki asked, inwardly wincing at the painfully slow steps she was taking.

“No, if I sit for too long, my hips and back hurt.” Lydia pulled a strangely-shaped pot with a small lid, handle, and spout from a little cupboard and placed it on a small device that looked like the top of Eleanore’s stove. “Do you like tea?”

“I have never tried it here,” Loki said honestly. He got up and walked over to the picture display on the table under the television. These were large frames showing portraits of Eleanore and her cousins through the years, starting when they were very young. Smaller photographs also showed duplicates of the farm photos from the apartment, with the same relatives. “Your sister looks very like you.”

“June? Yeah, we take after our mom.” Lydia left the stove and came to stand beside him, picking up a silver frame. “This is her, here, and my dad Ron. Her name was Sandy.” It was the elderly couple posed near a field, smiling and laughing. Loki only saw the height from the father reflected in his daughters, for the mother was quite short. 

“What happened to them?” he asked to be polite. 

Lydia smiled sadly and raised an eyebrow. “My mom had cancer, too. When she died my dad went into really bad depression, and followed a couple years later.” She went back to the counter, where the pot was making whistling noises. “So did you say you’ve been to Earth before?”

“I am recorded in your mythology,” Loki welcomed the change in subject, turning to survey the rest of the room. A small sitting area just off the tiny kitchen, a closet next to the bed, which had two small tables for pictures as well. Eleanore was the main feature in these as well, along with a few other portraits on the walls. “Have you heard nothing of the Trickster God?”

“Didn’t know you were so young,” Lydia grinned and turned back with two steaming mugs in her hands. She gave one to Loki, and he smelled it. Cinnamon, he identified, along with other herbs. 

It was hot, but he took a tentative sip and found it good. “Have you any sugar?” 

“Elle got to you first,” Lydia scoffed amiably, sitting down. “Can’t have coffee without creamer, can’t have tea without sugar. It’s right above the sink.”

“Thank you.” Loki found it, and the silverware drawer, and spooned a little into the beverage. He liked it a great deal better than coffee. “I should have visited again sooner, if only for the tea.”

“It’s Bengal Spice,” Lydia explained as Loki sat again in the same chair. “Did you visit anywhere other than Europe, then?”

“It was not called Europe nine hundred years ago, but no.” Loki smirked as she raised her eyebrows. “I believe you called me ‘young’ a moment ago. You may take it back if you wish.”

“No, you’re young. Even if you’ve lived nine hundred-some years, you’re young.” 

“You say that as a mother,” Loki stirred his tea again. It was the best thing he’d had on Midgard, ever. 

“Yeah,” Lydia crossed her legs, “mothers feel old all the time. Why do they call you the God of Mischief, then?”

“I have no idea. I was much less mischievous back then. I first came here as a child of around ten human years.” Thor had dashed around as far as Odin would let him go. Loki had stayed close to his not-father’s side, fearful of the savages in furs. “Then we made visits every twelve years or so until Odin cut off relations with Midgard when I was one hundred and twenty. I will admit, I made trips unknown to him over the years, but Midgard was slow to develop then. I have not been here for five hundred years.” He’d become disillusioned with the fur-clad sailors who could not see beyond their little islands. No longer afraid of the savages, he was impatient with them. “I suppose I was more artful by that time.”

“How do you speak English, then?” 

“The Allspeak is a magical gift given to all Asgardians when they turn five years old,” he explained, barely remembering that bestowal. Just a yellow flash from an ancient stone, along with a number of other five year-olds. Thor had been inaugurated the year before. “It is a tradition, in case any child gets stuck on another realm.”

“So you could speak any language. That’s useful.” Lydia turned her head toward the door as footsteps approached. Eleanore entered first, looking strained. The Captain did not follow, but Loki could hear him in the hallway, heaving a loud sigh. “Bad day?”

“She yelled at us,” Eleanore sat on the floor beside her mother and leaned her head on Lydia’s knee. She looked up at Loki, actual tears threatening to fall until she blinked them away. “Tea, huh? Bengal Spice?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her as Lydia carded a hand through her hair where it was not bound back. He saw the opportunity to cause her some pain, but his last attempt at something like that had backfired. Besides, the Captain was just outside the door, no doubt feeling even worse since he did not come inside. “Your mother was kind enough to host.”

“He put sugar in it,” Lydia said, which earned her an impish smile from her daughter. 

“That’s how it’s good.” Eleanore rose and gave her mother a hug. “I think we need to go. We’re gonna picnic while Jet flies around. I’ll send you pictures.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart. Tell Steve I said goodbye, and I’m sorry. Loki, come back anytime.” Lydia stood to walk them to the door and closed it behind them.

Loki stole a glance at Rogers, but the man was stone-faced, his entire body stiff with tension. Jet led them outside to the car. The hall was empty, and Loki could smell food scents wafting on the conditioned air. Lunchtime.

They all piled into the car in the same order, and Eleanore drove onto a large road where she sped the car to purely unsafe speeds. Loki was used to traveling either by horse or Bifrost, so hurtling down a strip of pavement in a tiny metal container surrounded by other bigger metal containers seemed insane. He had serious doubts about the effectiveness of the cloth strap across his chest and middle keeping him from any fiery death a collision would cause.

“So what did you talk to Mom about?” Eleanore asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“We discussed your family.” Loki estimated he’d either get a good or bad reaction from that subject. “You look like your grandmother.”

“I get that a lot. She worked with SHIELD, so a lot of people still meet me and say ‘Oh, I can see Sandy’s genes got passed on!’” Eleanore used a high-pitched, sarcastic voice. “Did you like the tea?”

“I did,” Loki admitted. “I told her about my previous visits to Midgard. She called me young.”

“She always calls my friends young.” Eleanore smiled, steering around a large transportation vehicle. Loki ignored her claim of him as a friend in favor of letting her focus on not getting them killed. “When I started dating Darren, she called him the Stark boy. I think it’s an Iowa thing, or maybe just in my family.”

“She explained cancer to me as well.” Loki was looking for a reaction now, watching Eleanore out of the corner of his eye as they sped down a stretch of open road.

She sighed, looking weary. “Sorry I didn’t warn you about that. I didn’t think you had anything like it on Asgard, so I didn’t want to explain it all in detail. I thought if you saw it, you’d get it.”

Once again, his subject was not reacting the way he expected. Loki sat in silence, processing the reasoning behind Eleanore’s actions and finding the truth in them. He wouldn’t have understood if she’d tried to explain it, and he would have reacted the same way to seeing a dying person. “Asgard does not have diseases like that.”

“I figured.”

They rode in silence a while longer, until Eleanore took the car off of the large road and onto a curving one that went into a forest. She pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned building and disembarked without a word. Jet loped around the car after her as she opened the rear storage area and retrieved the sandwiches and a couple of blankets. 

Loki got out of the car, stretching, watching the Captain do the same. The trees around them gave off a nice smell, like the giant firs on Vanaheim. These were smaller and sparser, but the sunshine and scent transported Loki for a moment. He breathed deeply with his eyes closed until the  thump of the car closing brought him back.

“Let’s go over to the meadow,” Eleanore said, leading them away from the car. Jet ran ahead, transforming before Loki’s eyes into a beast of legend, all sparkling scales, outstretched wings, blue spikes. “He’s excited,” Eleanore explained, grinning back at the two men. Rogers gave no response, his eyes distant. Loki just followed in awe, feeling the magic coiling off the dragon in waves. It was more power than the scepter had given him, though not as much as the Tesseract. It was amazing, conscious and unconscious at the same time. Natural, innate energy, drawing from some unknown source. Those who hunted dragons said they gained strength from killing them. Loki could believe it. Watching one of these creatures die would be like witnessing one of the grand volcanoes of Muspelheim. 

Jet looked back for a moment, then took off running, bounding thirty feet at a time, his wings gliding him along. Eleanore laughed delightedly and ran after him, encumbered by the things she carried. The dragon disappeared around the corner of the building, and the young woman followed seconds later. There was a pause, then a scream. Loki heard something fall to the ground, and then the steady beating of wings.

He glanced at the Captain and raised his eyebrows. Together, they took off sprinting for the sunlit clearing visible just around the dark building. They reached it just in time to see Jet shoot into the air, Eleanore clinging to his back and whooping over the rushing wind. 

Loki felt a grin creeping over his face at the display of raw physical strength and freedom, but he fought it back. Beside him, the Captain’s stony facade cracked into a full smile, and he looked every bit the young man he was as he gazed into the sky.

“Wonder where the saddle is,” was his sole comment before he tore his eyes away and bent to pick up the blankets and container Eleanore had dropped. Loki followed him across the field through knee-high grass and spread a blanket over the ground at the edge of the trees. 

“How far can they go?” Loki asked, looking up and catching sight of the pair making a wide circle over the entire skyline. They were very fast, like the dragons he’d seen swooping over Vanaheim’s mountains. He could barely make out Eleanore’s form on the dragon’s back. 

“Elle said Tony extended the interceptor’s range, so about ten miles without being seen.” The Captain shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted up at his friend. They were doing complicated maneuvers, twisting and looping through the sky. 

Loki held out his hand and pulled a lensed scope from his magical storage. It was old, but effective, showing every detail of the flight as though seen from a mere hundred feet away instead of the miles it was. Jet was climbing higher, straining faster with each pulse of his wings. They were growing more distant, even through the device Loki held. They disappeared into one of the tall clouds, and Loki could not find them again. He took the glass away and watched the cloud.

“You have another one of those?” Rogers asked, looking over at Loki.

“No,” Loki said smugly, raising the device again. He caught a glimpse of something moving quickly downward out of the cloud and refocused it. Felt cold fingers grip his heart. Eleanore was falling alone, arms outstretched to control her descent. “Here,” he handed the scope over to Rogers, who took it and cursed almost immediately. Loki ignored him, calculating just where he would have to transport himself and how quickly he could slow them before they hit the ground. Just as he was about to transport, Jet shot out of the cloud as well, curving with wings outstretched to catch Eleanore mid-tumble.

“Son of a gun,” the Captain breathed, handing the lens back to Loki. 

They watched together as the duo flew over the treetops and turned back to land a moment later in the middle of the meadow. Eleanore was laughing as she tumbled off the dragon’s back, hair flying out of her braid in spiraling tendrils. Jet took off immediately after she hit the ground, rising in lazy circles and gliding away between the clouds.

“Elle, are you okay?” Rogers rushed over, helping the smiling woman to her feet. On the heels of his concern was exasperation. “Couldn’t have warned us?”

“Haven’t tried it before.” Eleanore was unrepentant, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “Did you see that catch, though? It was amazing!”

“Amazing.” The Captain shook his head. “Yeah, sure. Just let us know next time. Loki almost tried to save you.”

“Thanks for almost saving me,” Eleanore laughed over at Loki. 

He rolled his eyes, only mildly impressed with the feat she’d accomplished. He couldn’t stop a small grin from escaping as he saw the canny look in her eye. It mirrored how he felt when he’d pulled off a particularly complicated prank on Thor or Sif. “I would prefer not to risk my life unnecessarily for you.” Or at all, really. But since she and the Captain were both so interested in dangerous activities, Loki had accepted that protecting them would be a occupy his thoughts much of the time. Especially considering his own life relied on their safety.

“Good thing you didn’t, then.” Eleanore shook the rest of her hair out of the braid and put the band on her wrist. She accompanied them back to the blankets and sat, picking up the food container. “So. Who’s hungry?”

 


	17. Air show

They ate slowly, sitting on the blankets, watching Jet swooping through and around the clouds above them. Eleanore made a quick trip back to her car and got a pair of sunglasses before lying back propped on her elbows, shoes and socks discarded on the grass. Loki stood after he was finished eating and looked through the little telescope he had. From time to time, he’d lower it, blink, look around, and then go back to his observation. Jet was going to fly for a few hours today, to train for possible missions in the future.

Steve let himself recover first from the scare Elle had given him, falling out of the sky with no warning. The adrenaline wore off almost immediately, but he was on edge until he was done with his second sandwich and third refill of water. After he’d calmed down a little, he sat with one arm behind him for support, the other draped over his bent leg. He couldn’t see Jet very well because he was so high up, so he watched the trees sway in the wind, the birds hopping from grass to branch, and wished he’d brought his sketchbook.

The sunny day was a balm on his sore heart. Peggy hadn’t acted like herself at all, first scolding Eleanore for not visiting, and then Steve for not coming to see her sooner. Apparently she’d seen him on the news coverage of New York, and had forgotten about his previous visits altogether. She’d gone on a rant for a good ten minutes, and Steve hadn’t had the heart to interrupt her. Elle hadn’t either, but eventually she cut in and apologized, which calmed Peggy down quite a bit. After that, Steve had gone through the story of waking up in the modern world and the alien battle. He’d done his best to act happy, but he knew he was failing when he’d faltered at the part where they went to Asgard. Elle took over from there, telling Peggy about the guy who’d propositioned her, about Loki coming back to Earth, about their plans for flying with Jet that afternoon. Peggy had gone quiet after Steve’s waking up story, and hadn’t spoken at all until Elle suggested they leave. Then, she’d told them not to come back unless they felt like treating her like a person. 

“It’s the Alzheimer’s.” Elle had explained after they left the room.  “It just wasn’t a good day.”

Steve understood. Knew the facts in his head. His chest still hurt, though, as he thought back through it and remembered each glare and guilt-charged moment. He’d held himself apart from the emotions in the hallway, in the car, and now in the quiet meadow. 

He needed some time. “I’ll be right back.” Steve saw Eleanore’s concerned look before she nodded and he turned and walked away. 

The parking lot was where he’d had his first modern breakdown. Today wasn’t as bad. Instead of crying, he just leaned against the shaded wall of the old factory and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose where it met his eyes. There would be fewer and fewer ‘good days’ as the disease progressed. Neither Lydia or Peggy were going to last very long. Soon, he’d have to deal with loss all over again, and this time there were bad memories to go with the good. He loved Peggy, loved having her in this time, but he missed who she used to be, too, in a selfish way. It wasn’t right to want Peggy to live longer for his own sake, but that was exactly how he felt.  Not that it matters. I’m seventy years too late. Just have to accept it.

Sparks started flying through his darkened vision, and he breathed deeply until the tightness and pain subsided a little. Steve sighed and looked up at the scattered, puffy clouds, feeling the cool masonry of the building behind him. Heard the rumbling of tires on pavement as Darren’s car turned into view and parked next to Eleanore’s.

“Hey,” he greeted Steve, as the door opened over his head. “Not into the air show?”

“Just taking a walk.” Steve stopped leaning on the building and stood straight, returning Darren’s smile with a forced grin. “You here to watch?”

“Yeah, and I brought the saddle. And a new suit for Elle to test out. And a weapon for her, new things for you to try, and some stuff for Loki she asked me to bring the next time I came over. I guess he likes herbal tea now, and throwing knives.” Darren gestured to the trunk of the car, and it opened, revealing a cloth grocery bag, the shining armor of Eleanore’s suit, and something that looked like a long staff of the same colors. Beneath these things there was a black briefcase and a silver box. “Here,” Darren held the saddle out and Steve stepped forward to take it. He also took the briefcase in one of his free hands, and Darren started balancing things in his own arms, the silver box first and then Elle’s suit and weapon. 

There were more latches and pockets on this version of the saddle, but it was lighter and exactly the color of Jet’s spikes and eyes. “What’s it made of?” he asked, recalling a time he’d asked Howard the same thing about his shield. That sank him even further into depression because Peggy had shot at him then, and Bucky had been alive to laugh about it later.  Get it together.

“It’s an experiment with Kevlar and graphene.” Darren held up the material so Steve noticed a honeycomb pattern along the top layer. “Carbon-based and pretty strong, and Kevlar makes it tough. We’re experimenting with carbyne in the labs, but so far we haven’t gotten it to stick together, so graphene it is.”

“How strong is it?” Steve studied the material and flexed it, finding a surprising amount of give.

“Twenty times stronger than diamond. I know,” Darren said in response to Steve impressed expression. “But the problem is, it might not hold up when Jet flies. It has a low breaking point when it’s bent, which is why I added the Kevlar. If this doesn’t work, we’ll go back to modified denim until I find a better option.”

“Sounds good,” Steve tried to search for the proper compliment, but came up empty. “Hope it works.”

“Are you okay?” Darren asked, pausing a moment and looking Steve over worriedly. “Something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Steve dismissed him, turning and walking back to the meadow to deliver the saddle. 

A moment later, the younger Stark was beside him, arms full. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will,” Steve promised. Then he thought about who he was talking to. “What do you know about Alzheimer’s?”

“We’ve got an entire research team dedicated to it,” Darren answered. “Just like we have one for cancer. The results are about the same: a whole lot of nothing.” He looked over and met Steve’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Steve shrugged off the apology. “I’m glad you’re working on it.”

“Bruce is, actually. He took over when he started living with us, and now he’s running the entire medical research division of Stark Industries. He’s really good with biological stuff. I’m more mechanical, engineering. You know.”

“Yeah.” They rounded the corner of the building, and Eleanore waved to them from the blanket, raising her eyebrows when she recognized Darren. “Did she know you were coming?”

“I texted her about an hour ago, but I bet her phone’s in the car.” Darren got happier as they approached. Steve felt a lightening of the weight on his chest as he watched the couple greet each other. Darren dropped the stuff on the ground as Elle rose and jumped at him, spinning her in the air with a laugh.

“I left my phone in the car,” Eleanore said as soon as her feet hit the ground. She was smiling so much, Steve thought she was happier for Darren’s surprise appearance. 

“What else is new? Here, try this.” Darren picked up the weapon and handed it to her. “Loki, want to test this?” He brought the silver box forward and opened it, showcasing a series of throwing knives and two slim handguns. “They take anything from a twenty-two round to a nine millimeter so you can reload from enemy weapons in the field. They work under water, they’re dust-resistant, and they recognize your hands.” 

Loki picked up the knives first, spinning them around on his fingers before turning suddenly and slicing one through a branch twenty yards away. “Not unlike my own.” He sent three more into the trunk of a tree and called them all back with magic. 

“They’re made to accept your energy signature,” Darren explained, walking over and taking one, showing the grooves in the blade. He and Loki started discussing magic and theories, ways to make better blades and weapons.

Steve opened the black briefcase and found a couple bigger guns modeled after the ones Loki had gotten. There were also some new gloves to go with the uniform that had a flashlight and short knives sheathed along the forearms. Steve tested the flashlight, but left the blades alone.

Eleanore was swinging something through the taller grass at the treeline, knocking the seeds of their stems. The staff had come apart into two long asps, almost doubling the length of her arms. She stopped and looked back, holding one up, “These are great.”

“They look great,” Steve walked over and took the one she handed him, testing its weight and balance. There was something off about the handle. When he examined it, he found the end unscrewed to reveal a long, thin knife. He held it up to the sunlight. “Elle, try yours.”

She did. “Lock picking kit, and some little card things.” 

“Those are to fry any electronic locks you may come across. They each work twice, so you can get through four doors.” Darren came up on Elle’s other side, pointing to the thin green chips. Loki wandered closer and looked over their shoulders. Steve handed him the knife and the other asp, and he examined them a moment before giving them back. Darren was still speaking, raising his voice to address all of them, “Dad designed some new equipment for the gym, which is being installed now. The ground floor is close-range weapons practice now, and the basement is still for sparring. Top floor’s got rooms in case someone needs to stay over or hide.”

“You bought the gym?” Steve asked.

“We already owned it. SHIELD used it for agents in the area, but they’ve just built a new one on their campus. Ours will be the DC Avengers facility, since like half of you live here.” Darren shrugged, smiling. “Natasha and Clint are excited about it. They hate sharing with regular agents.”

“That’ll be nice,” Elle agreed. “Thanks for the new stuff.”

“Is the knife okay? Dad suggested garroting wire, in case you get in a tight spot.” Darren held out his hand, so Steve gave him the blade and kept the asp. 

“Ew, I don’t want to garrote anyone.” Eleanore took the knife and handled it, tensing up like she was going to fight an invisible enemy. “Not that stabbing someone is much better, but I like the knife.”

“It’s really sharp, so be careful. Did you see your knives, Steve?” Darren left her to test her new weapons and turned to the ones he hadn’t introduced yet. “They can cut through ten feet of concrete or four feet of steel.”

“I saw them,” Steve retrieved his gloves and handed the asp off to Loki, who took it back to Eleanore. “Where’d you get this idea?”

“I went a little knife-happy,” Darren explained, smiling as he removed one of the short-handled daggers. “But I thought you might need something other than a shield and guns, and you don’t seem like a laser guy. But if you want one, you can totally have it. We’re developing beams that can cut through ten feet of concrete and rebar, or four feet of solid steel.”

“Maybe one for Elle’s medical pack? In case we need to cut someone out of somewhere.” Steve threw the dagger around in the complicated series of moves he’d learned from Jacques in the War. Held memories back by sheathing the knife again and trying on the gloves.

“You really okay?” Darren asked, almost whispering. He was more perceptive than Steve gave him credit for. Then again, Steve wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his struggles.

“Just a bad day,” He assured the younger man. “Let’s see if the saddle works on Jet.”

The dragon had been circling above them at varying heights, trying maneuvers on his own that looked like they’d shake Eleanore to death. When she waved at him, he glided to land in the middle of the clearing, allowing them to strap the saddle on his back. Loki stayed far away, watching the goings on. 

“So Asgard doesn’t have dragons.” Steve knew it, but he didn’t have much else to talk about with the demigod. 

“No, and dragons are rarely seen even by those on their home world.” Loki was observing with an almost hungry look in his eye. “I have never seen one in its true form up close before today.”

“If you asked, Elle might take you for a ride,” Steve suggested, earning a scornful glance. “Really. She took me up once.”

“Somehow, I think the dragon would allow a Hel-spawned demon perch in its liver before it would let me ride.” The dark-haired man shook his head, and gave a derisive grin.

“Never hurts to ask,” Steve shrugged, watching as Jet took off to test the saddle on his own, making sure it wouldn’t break apart before Eleanore tried it out. While he was in the air, Darren called Elle’s new suit over and she tried it on, hooking the asps in two holsters at her hips. They were made to hold the metal at her side so it wouldn’t swing out and hit anything when she turned. The suit was a little heavier-looking, with plates instead of scales running the length of Eleanore’s back, torso, and legs. The scales remained on her arms for flexibility, and there was still no metallic clanking. The helmet looked the same, only a little bigger. Steve heard Darren mention something about an air filtration system so she could get through gas leaks and biological airborne pathogens, which were apparently a weapon now worse than mustard gas.

“How did the dragon come to be here, guarding a short-lived mortal?” Loki queried, quietly watching the sky. 

“Elle tells the story better,” Steve told him. “They’re from Darren’s home planet though. The one other than Earth.”

“Vanaheim,” Loki corrected him. Jet landed, saddle still intact, and Elle hopped on. “That boy’s family is nearly as strange as mine was.”

“Yeah?” Steve turned to look at him, waiting for more. Loki pressed his lips together and tensed up. “You don’t have to talk about it. But you can.”

“Just like you, with your sadness, hm?” The demigod fixed him with a piercing stare that chilled Steve to his bones. “You keep secrets, perhaps as much as I do.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve protested with a grin. “I just don’t talk about my feelings much. Other than that, I’m an open book.”

“If you say so,” Loki returned to his skyward gaze, and Steve watched too. Jet was flying lower, sometimes nearly brushing the treetops with his feet. The saddle held together, shining in the sun, until they landed ten minutes later. Darren inspected it with satisfaction, and the dragon walked over to the building to finally feed. 

“Ready to go?” Elle asked, coming up and stepping out of her dissembling suit. “Darren’s coming to have supper with us. Indian sound okay?”

“Sounds good,” Steve agreed, helping retrieve everything from where it was scattered on the ground. Loki even carried the blankets and cooler back to the car, where Eleanore shook them out and stowed them away in the trunk with her new suit and the weapons and the saddle. It almost didn’t all fit. 

“Loki, do you want to ride with Darren? Then you and Steve can both have leg room.” Eleanore worded it like a suggestion, but no one could disagree with it. Loki didn’t seem to mind, though, walking over and ducking into the low-lying Tesla. 

Steve got in the front seat of the older car, and Jet stretched his dog form across the back. “Thanks for the leg room.”

“I might need to look at a bigger car,” Elle smiled at him and followed Darren onto the road. “Like a mid-size SUV or something.”

“Or I could get a real car so you don’t have to drive me around all the time,” Steve frowned. “How much do cars cost now?”

“Used ones are quite a bit less than new, but you have to be careful to get a good deal. My car was about five thousand, and it’s ten years old. It was in really good shape, though.”

“Five thousand.” Steve shook the number off, thinking it through. He had plenty of money, he’d recently found out. He wanted to donate most of it, since the back pay was for seventy years of lying in the ice. The interest, though, on his savings was still worth something. And he had a paycheck from SHIELD to look forward to, however much that would be. He was slowly figuring out how to budget in this new time when a week’s worth of food costs would have lasted him several months in the forties. “I’ll look around.”

“Don’t be afraid to haggle.”

“I know, you’ve told me.” He looked out the window, remembering the bus and subway and elevated train systems of New York. Those were still useful, but it seemed like more and more people wanted their own vehicles for things. It was certainly more convenient in an emergency.

“So I know Darren asked, but how are you feeling?” Eleanore stared straight ahead as they merged onto the interstate.

“It’s just one of those days,” Steve was honest with her from the get-go, remembering their confrontation that morning. “It’ll pass.”

“Yeah,” Elle agreed. “Did spending the day out with us help or hinder that?”

“It was fine. Distractions are good.” Distractions were  necessary . Steve knew if he didn’t have them, he’d be that much closer to the dark pit of despair that loomed on the edge of his consciousness. Sometimes he could forget about it when he was with other people.

“Good.”

They rode in silence for a while, which Steve appreciated. The clouds were almost gone, only a few curving at the top of the sky. “What are those wispy ones called?”

“Cirrus.” Elle leaned forward and looked out the windshield. “They’re so high that they’re made of ice, which is why they don’t hold together the same way cumulus ones do.”

“Have you ever flown that high?”

“No, there’s not much air up there, and it’s literally freezing. Tony even had to build a special suit to handle the extreme temperatures.”

“How high do you go?”

“Not above thirteen or fourteen thousand feet. The winds get really fast, and we have to deal with up and downdrafts. We can go up to twenty-five thousand feet for short distances, like landing on the helicarrier, but we usually don’t.”

“Loki asked about how you knew Jet,” Steve remembered. “I told him you’d tell the story.”

“That makes sense. Thanks,” she glanced at Jet through the rear view mirror. “How are your new guns?”

“They look neat. The gloves, too. They’ll be useful.” It was amazing how quickly the Starks could come up with these things and build them. But that was what they loved to do— experimenting with new technology, seeing what worked. The Avengers were lucky to have them. “What about you?” The thought suddenly occurred to him that Elle might be just as torn up about Peggy’s behavior as he was. “How do you deal with… bad days?”

“I don’t, sometimes. If I think a visit will rile Peggy up, I wait until a better day. But if I don’t have any warning, like today, I just deal with it. Compartmentalize and shrug it off. She didn’t really mean it, it was the disease talking.”

“Guess I’m just not used to it,” Steve looked out the window, processing and seeing if he could do the same. It worked, a little, when he remembered how Peggy used to be, and that everyone had times when they weren’t at their best. Her words at the end still rankled, though.

“Different people react differently to the same stimuli,” Elle was heading into information mode.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… say we each play a game of chess with Darren. He likes to win, and he always beats me. I like to win, and I always lose to him. You might beat him, and you know it. Now, he does this smug face whenever he takes one of my pieces, and I just get pissed off and then we start laughing, and I never think that strategically. You’d probably take it as a challenge, and try that much harder to beat him. Different people, same stimulus.”

“What theory is that from?” Steve watched as Darren’s car merged into the rightmost lane. 

Eleanore peered around, checking for cars, before following him. “It’s an observation, but it could depend on your conflict and attachment styles, and any number of other things. I cited our relationships with Darren, mostly, because he knows how to annoy me, but he doesn’t know you that well yet.” As she spoke, her fingers gestured on the steering wheel, sometimes leaving only her open palms to guide the car. 

Steve wondered whether he should let her focus on driving. Decided it was probably fine. “So how’s this not psychology?”

“It’s a little bit of everything, that’s why I like it. Psychology, sociology, even anthropology, if you get into the study of rhetorical development dating back thousands of years. Before Loki even came here,” she smirked over at him, and he grinned back.

They turned down a curving exit that was near a shopping center in DC that was only a mile or so away from the apartment. Eleanore and Darren parked in the back of the large lot and directed Steve and Loki to a place called Little India. 

“Hello!” the host, whose name tag read  Basant , greeted them familiarly, asking how the couple had been. Steve and Loki were introduced as friends, and received an enthusiastic welcome. They were led across the black and white checkered tiles to the back of the restaurant to a four-seated table with a vase of red artificial flowers and a light hanging above it. The walls were deep red, and the whole place was dark and restful, Indian music playing softly over the speakers in the ceiling. It was a right at the beginning of the dinner rush, so only a few other tables were taken.

Everyone ordered water to drink, and then they were told to help themselves. Eleanore and Darren led the way again to a room just off the kitchen, where a buffet was laid out. 

Everything was labeled, but Steve didn’t know where to start. He followed Darren’s example, getting a plate full of rice before pausing to choose what sort of dish should go on top of it. There was chicken curry, which looked different from that served on the helicarrier. Tandoori chicken, chicken tikka masala, vegetable korma. Elle loaded up on chicken makhani, so Steve tried it too, heading back to the table. Darren followed, and only set his plate down before heading back and returning with a large plate full of flat bread called naan. 

“This is to share,” Darren told him. Elle took a piece and started scooping the rice and sauce and meat onto it before taking a bite. Darren just scooped the food up with the bread and ate it that way.

Steve tried it both ways, and ended up just eating the bread separately and having the entree with his fork and spoon. Loki, sitting next to Steve and across from Darren, copied Elle’s method, eating something that looked like carrots and peas and cauliflower in orange sauce. The food was mild and delicious. Steve went back for three plates before he slowed down, getting something different every time. His favorite was the curry because it was so simple. Darren and Eleanore showed them various toppings and side dishes that were on the salad bar, including mango chutney and a red hot sauce that really burned. 

“But it has such good flavor!” Darren protested as Elle laughed and Steve took a few gulps of water. “Loki, you want to try it?”

“No, I will decline.” Loki was on his fifth plate, apparently enjoying Steve’s pain as much as the food. 

“I don’t eat it, either.” Elle watched as Darren dumped the little container of sauce onto his curry and stirred it in. “I can’t taste anything past the burning.”

“Burns on the way out, too,” Darren said around a mouthful of naan.

Steve actually laughed at that unexpected information, his chuckle joining Eleanore’s snickering as she tried unsuccessfully relay disgust. Loki rolled his eyes, but he still looked amused. 

After that, conversation turned to vehicles, specifically one Darren was designing with an arc reactor power source. Stark Industries was working with one of the leading electric car manufacturers to create sustainable, efficient transportation that was affordable for everyone. Darren mentioned models of the Tesseract being used, and Loki got interested, leaning forward and examining the plans, commenting and pointing out flaws. He and Darren got into a deep discussion, comparing their differing knowledge of mechanics, and how magic and energy played into that.

Steve listened for a while, but he couldn’t make sense of most of it. Elle started telling him about the different ingredients commonly used in Indian food, and the practices that went into eating it. Naan was often used in place of a utensil, and the dominant religion, Hinduism, frowned upon eating beef. There was no beef on the menu at the restaurant, which was strange for America. Steve told her about eating horse and goat in Europe. He hadn’t known what he was eating until someone pointed out the lack of horses. It actually tasted pretty good. Goat was a delicacy, and once Steve had gotten lamb when he’d helped liberate a village and they threw together a celebration when the army camped there.

Darren and Loki ended up eating the most, seven plates each, not including naan. Steve had five plates, and Eleanore had three, even though Basant and his wife Jaya pushed more on her. Apparently she and Darren were frequent customers and good tippers. They both asked after the restaurant owners’ family as well, sounding very familiar.

At least, that’s what Steve assumed until Jaya handed Eleanore a to-go box as they were walking out and said, “For your mother.”

“Thank you,” Elle smiled and took the container, waving goodbye to Basant as Darren paid at the counter. The younger Stark had insisted on covering the bill, and Steve hadn’t put up a fight, planning on getting the next one. 

Loki was still arguing something about the spatial relationship between energy and its user when they stopped at the cars. 

“Look, why don’t you come to the Tower sometime?” Darren held up his hands, grinning excitedly like a kid who wants a friend to sleep over. “We can go through the lab, look at the specs in detail.” 

“I certainly would, if I have permission,” Loki gave Eleanore a pointed glare, which she ignored.

“Sure, if you take me along. Steve, too, if he wants to come. When will Pepper be there, so we can thank her for the clothes?”

“She’s home for the week, but she’ll be gone for two weeks after that.” Darren came around and hugged Eleanore close, kissing her on the forehead. “See you later. I’ll text you. Love you.”

“Love you too. Have Jarvis drive safely.” Elle watched him get into the car before turning and noticing Steve’s confused expression. “The car drives itself. Jarvis gives it directions. Darren just sits back and does math and designing.”

“The future is now,” Steve quoted something he’d seen on television earlier that week. He glanced at Loki and grinned, “Shotgun.”

“I will fight you for it,” Loki offered, settling into a sparring pose.

“No fighting. Those are the rules — you call shotgun, you get shotgun. You can call it next time.” Eleanore was holding back giggles as Steve settled in the car next to her. “Now buckle up, kids.”

“The dragon is blocking the latch,” Loki complained, sending her into real gales of laughter. Steve started chuckling again because it  was funny, and the laughter was infectious. “I hardly see any humor in my situation.” Loki glowered at them, but that just made things more amusing because he looked like a pouting, tall child.

“Jet,” Elle managed to gasp. The dragon-dog moved over with a groan, and she turned the car on, still giggling. Steve heard her mutter, “Never asked to be a mom. Even the damn cat gives me attitude.” He smiled, turning to look out the passenger window so Loki wouldn’t see.

The drive back was quiet. They’d taken a long time eating, so it was around eight when they pulled into the driveway. The sky was still bright, the sun only beginning to set. They trooped up the stairs, Jet first, Loki last. Steve spent a moment of hesitation at his door, not wanting to walk into the silent darkness just yet. 

“Come over for a while,” Elle read his mind, opening her door and letting the demigod and dragon inside. 

“Sure,” Steve said, trying to make it sounds like ‘ thanks ’. “I’ll just get my sketchbook. Be right there.”

“Okay, lock the door when you come in.” Elle ducked inside, leaving the hallway deserted.

Steve walked quickly through his apartment to pick up his drawing supplies, then exited and locked his door. He walked into Eleanore’s place and slid the deadbolt into place as she’d asked. 

“She reminds me far too much of you,” Loki was saying, raising an eyebrow in some sort of challenge.

“Who, Lydia?” Steve asked, walking over to his accustomed position on the couch. 

“Yes.” Loki confirmed. He turned his attention back to Eleanore, “I can see where you get your insufferable need to order people around.”

“I think you mean my ‘leadership skills,’” Elle was in a humorous mood, laughing at Loki’s dark expression. “And my boundless confidence.”

“ Over confidence.” She laughed again as Loki corrected her. 

Steve shook his head and opened his sketchbook, flipping to the next blank page. He was already almost halfway through this one. Luckily, there was a lot of space on his bookshelves. He started on an image of a wren sitting on a fallen branch that had stuck in his mind. The lines came together quickly as Eleanore and Loki quieted down and settled into their own books. Loki was working on one of the texts that had been delivered, reading up on the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, which had come before he was born. Elle was flying through a fictional book called  The Fault in Our Stars . Jet was asleep on the other end of the couch, Charlie curled on top of him in a ball of striped fur.

The bird was done, and the living room lamp had been turned on for more light when Elle sat up and dropped her book. “There’s still stuff in the car.”

“Mmm, so there is,” Loki conceded sarcastically.

“I’ll help you bring it up.” Steve rose and followed her down the stairs to the car, where she stacked the saddle, the staff weapon, and his briefcase of guns and gloves into his arms. She took her compacted suit, Loki’s silver box, and the bag of stuff Darren had brought for him. Steve caught a glimpse of a laptop as she adjusted the straps. “Should we let him have access to the Internet?” he asked, hoping Loki couldn’t somehow hear them.

“Darren put an integrated tracker in this thing, and on our router,” Eleanore assured him. “The cell phone, too. We want him to be feel like he has a little freedom.”

“If you say so.” Steve was willing to trust her judgment. He just wished he didn’t also have to trust Loki.

Elle got the doors for him, and he dumped the stuff in the middle of her living room floor. They sorted through everything, placing Steve’s items by the door for him to take to his apartment, putting the saddle under her bed, her suit and weapons right next to it. Loki took his silver box into his room, then sat back down and picked up his book again.

“Here,” Elle threw something at the demigod, and he caught it without looking. It was the cell phone, one of the latest Stark ones Steve had seen advertised. 

“So I can keep in closer contact with you?” Loki snarked, fiddling with the buttons. The phone turned on to display his name and ID picture, and then opened to reveal a short list of contacts that included the Avengers and Maria Hill.

“Just in case,” Elle said, pulling the laptop out as well. It was larger than hers, and thinner. “You can also use it to look things up, if you have questions. Or this.” She powered up the computer and handed it over as well. Loki started clicking immediately, engrossed. Steve didn’t like the dangerous light in his eyes, but he figured Jarvis or Darren or Tony would be monitoring the activity on the machine.

Eleanore got up and put a couple small boxes in the cupboard above the stove. They were both herbal tea, one called Bengal Spice, and the other a mix of samples. When she was done, she put the cloth bag by the door with Steve’s things. “You can have that one. Start your own collection.”

“Thanks,” Steve checked his watch and realized it was ten o’clock. He actually felt tired.  Nightmares and bad days will do that.  “I’ll head out. See you at six?”

“Ugh. Yes.” Elle smiled at him, picking Charlie up and hugging him. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Steve knew he probably wouldn’t. Maybe sleep was in his future, but he doubted it would involve anything but more nightmares. Still, he’d try. He needed to be ready in case he was needed. 

Since he was already tired, he got ready for bed right away and laid down. His eyes closed willingly, and memories were held at bay as he slipped into a light slumber without any dreams to begin with. His body relaxed, and he completely lost consciousness as the relief of rest swept over him.

He was awake three hours later, gasping, trying to make sense of where he was.  My apartment. DC. Calm down or Elle will sense you. He wiped a hand weakly over his face, wiping off a sheen of cold sweat, and sat up. The memories wouldn’t stay back any longer, storming to the forefront of his vision, playing out before his eyes. 

Sighing, Steve laid back on the bed, letting his feet dangle to touch the floor. He went through each moment of the day before their visit. Peggy yelled at him all over again, Bucky fell from the train, screaming. Bombs flashed and an audience cheered. Pretty girls asked for his autograph. Eleanore and Jet swooped over Howard’s science show. Tony tried to pick a fight. Bruce’s eyes turned a painful shade of green. Dum Dum peppered a hillside with a machine gun.

A knock on his door came in the middle of a war flashback, pulling him back into darkened reality. He rose, wondering if it was Eleanore, and why she didn’t just use her key like the night before. He hadn’t been that emotional, so she shouldn’t be worried. Was something wrong? He looked out of the door’s peephole and found an unfamiliar SHIELD agent brandishing a tablet.

“Mission, Captain.” She stepped back when he opened the door and nodded politely. “I’ll wait here while you get ready.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Just a minute.” After a quick trip to the bathroom and a change of clothes, he was Captain America, ready to face whatever needed to be done.

“The car’s waiting downstairs,” the agent said, handing him the tablet. Steve turned it on and found information about a terrorist cell that was developing in Turkey. They were an offshoot, not affiliated with any of the big groups. Currently working with biologics and explosives, which was a horrifying combination. Steve learned the term  dirty bomb as he scrolled through the cell’s information. Lots of armed men, lots of weapons, well-organized with ties to powerful radicals. Sources confirmed plans for an attack the following day, which was why Steve was being sent in right away and alone. All he had to do was take out their leaders and disable the vehicles they had there, and the citizens would be safe. If he could do it quietly, they’d avoid a panic.

The quinjet they put him on was sleeker and more compact than any of the other ones he’d seen.  New design. Faster.  It also flew itself, meaning he was the only one on the flight. There were bigger engines on the back, which opened up once they reached cruising altitude. Steve wandered around the cabin and found a duffel bag with  Rogers written on its luggage tag. He opened it and found a new, darker suit, all navy blue and muted silver with a harder helmet. The gloves were the same design Darren had given him that afternoon. As Steve put them on, he found a note written by two different hands.

“ Dear Captain Sparkles,

Steve,

Thought you could use something  less spangly more covert. Make sure you check the pockets. Channel 13.  Keep the helmet on so you don’t get shot at all.

\- Darren and Tony”

Steve almost smiled at the two different personalities on the paper in front of him. He folded the note up and checked his pockets, finding a comlink and a compact first-aid kit, along with several clips for his new guns, an air filtration mask, and a Stark Industries mini flashlight that could clip to his shoulder. He put the com on and set it to channel 13. 

“Steve?” Darren’s voice asked, sounding like he’d just woken up.

“Yeah,” Steve was confused. “Why am I connected to you?”

“Hey, Star Spangled Man,” Tony rang through, truly awake. 

“Dad, why’d you have to wake me up with this?” Darren liked sleep, unlike his father. Elle said he only pulled all-nighters when something had a deadline.

“Go back to sleep if you can’t appreciate a good hack,” Tony chided.  “Jarvis, get him off this line.”

“Tony, you don’t need to hack SHIELD every chance you get.” Steve heaved a sigh and looked heavenward, as though God could help him with the forty-five year-old man child.

“You don’t need to be such a stickler, either. Have a little fun.”  Tony sounded like he was working on something.  “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d be using this suit so soon. Going to Turkey, huh? What’s the play?”

“I’m not going to tell you that,” Steve leaned his arms on his legs and ran a hand over his face. “It’s four in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Fine, fine. Everyone’s a critic. Just let me know if that suit, you know, saves your life.”

“I will.”

The line went dead and Steve shook his head, glad it was over. He didn’t enjoy solo missions, but this one looked like it would be no problem. He hoped it wouldn’t be, at any rate, because he didn’t have backup to pull him out if things got dicey. He wished he’d left a note on his apartment door so Elle wouldn’t worry when he didn’t answer for their exercise appointment. He was sure to get an earful either way when he got back. He wouldn’t have let any other member of the team go on their own. Captain America was a conscious hypocrite.

The flight was only four hours. He ate a couple protein bars and drank a lot of water. Used the bathroom as much as possible because that was a distraction he didn’t need during battle. Watched the ocean and land go by out the windshield far below. At its end, he reviewed the information, points of interest, where the plane would pick him up. His target was a small, five story apartment building that was abandoned and set out in the middle of a deserted countryside. It had an outbuilding, where the terrorists were storing the vehicles they’d use to launch their weapons. The bombs were manufactured inside the apartment complex and attached to the random junkers in the garage. Driven to heavily populated areas and set off as massive, destructive experiments.

The quinjet went into silent, invisible mode about twenty feet above the apartment’s roof. Steve steeled himself. Hooked his helmet, checked his guns, and jumped, landing with a roll and taking out the two lookouts before they could utter a word. There was yelling from the ground below, and then bullets started hitting the railings around the rooftop. He’d been spotted. 

Steve wasted no time, kicking open the roof’s door and dashing down the stairwell. He met a clog of men, all shooting up at him. He crouched behind his shield and threw a grenade, which quickly thinned the herd. The last few fell to his bullets, and he jumped over them and made it to the third floor landing. That was when the door beside him and the two below opened, admitting more people than Steve had thought the building could hold. The ones on his level were dispatched without much problem, but he felt something small and barbed hit his neck from behind. A moment later, his arms were having trouble moving, and his legs were sluggish. Another one hit, making the problem worse.

He tried to shake it off, finishing the guys in front of him and turning back to find whoever had darted him. There were five men with strange guns, two more with syringes in their hands. The ones with guns opened rapid fire, bouncing slow, needled bullets off Steve’s shield, and the other two stayed behind, waiting.

Steve knew he was cornered. He heard footsteps behind him, and decided they were his best bet. He jumped back through the stairwell door that was propped open by bodies and ran down a narrow hallway. Right into a group of eight guys with the same equipment as the other seven. Steve froze, then launched through a thin wall and into a former apartment that was now a bomb factory. The windows were covered with black garbage bags. He could take that fall. He backed a step and took a deep breath.

Two more darts bit into his neck. The reaction was immediate this time, making him fall to his knees. He stumbled back up, only get a punch in the jaw from one of the bigger goons. Steve’s arms wouldn’t work anymore, and his legs were barely within his perception. A syringe to the neck, and he was a big, loose ball of useless muscles. His first, and likely last, solo modern mission had gone to shit within ten minutes.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Steve cursed himself for not requesting backup in the first place. How had he been seen so quickly? Were they waiting for him? Did they have a mole in SHIELD? Or had he been sent here as a test, and failed? Tony had called him the Star Spangled Man, but he hadn’t had much of a plan. Hadn’t prepared enough for the modern world. Hadn’t learned what Eleanore and Darren were trying to teach him, hadn’t researched  what weapons he might meet on this mission. Everything had gone wrong, and it was completely his fault.

Steve watched more boots approaching and waited for the death blow. It never came. The men were talking loudly. One ripped his shield off his arm, his helmet off his head. Two sets of arms pulled him up, neck rolling, to face a tall guy with a lot of stubble. Steve couldn’t hold his head up, so they used his hair as a handle and he finally faced his captor.

“Captain America,” the man said. “SHIELD is very generous with their offering.” He turned to his men and ordered something in a language Steve had never heard before. 

Apparently the order was,  “Drag this asshole down the stairs and drop him as much as you can.” By the time they reached a basement room with no windows and a lot of chains, Steve had gotten several knots knocked into his head from the metal stairs and railings. They even ran him into the door frame. Steve couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t even move his mouth to say ‘ow’. He settled on silence, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a groan. 

The men had a hard time getting his suit off. It was kind of amusing, in a disturbing way. They tried cutting it, but that didn’t work. The buckles and latches were complicated, so they ended up hanging Steve from the ceiling and undoing everything piece by piece. He couldn’t move a muscle, and they injected him with more drugs every fifteen minutes or so. They were smart.

When they’d finally stripped him to his civilian clothes — a white t-shirt and black close-fitting sweats — the guy in charge was back, still brandishing Steve’s shield. 

“You are to be a symbol for your country,” he told Steve happily. “Their American hero, falling to a simple group of nobodies. It will not be pleasant, I’m afraid. Still, you will serve a greater purpose than running around with your glorified… what is the word?”

“Frisbee,” said one of the henchmen behind Steve.

“Frisbee, thank you.” The leader nodded to the other man. “You may take the first knife.”

Getting stabbed wasn’t as bad as being shot. Steve got to compare the sensations side by side, and the bullets were far worse. It was the exit wounds. A knife cut sealed itself up pretty well, even when they twisted it around, but a bullet tore chunks of bone and muscle as it searched for a way out of his body. They started with his feet, moved up his legs, thankfully left his kneecaps intact. When he still didn’t talk, they started using larger guns, sending rounds through muscles in his arms. Finally, they went through his abdomen, and Steve could feel each organ as it ruptured.  There goes the large intestine. Liver. Kidney. It was getting hard to see because of the blood loss, but some of the bullets managed to stay inside, causing swelling under his skin.

The terrorists were talking, and Steve could tell they were arguing about whether to kill him or not. If they did, he hoped they’d do it quickly. The pain was pretty bad. Every heartbeat was agony that gradually dimmed as more and more blood dripped to the floor. All he could think about, through the whole thing, was how disappointed Peggy would be if she could understand what he’d done. How he was going to end. Bucky would roll his eyes and call him a punk. Erskine, too, wouldn’t want his success to die in this hole, shot up with some kind of paralysis drug. And he hadn’t stopped the bombings at all, instead giving these terrorists all his weapons and himself to use against people. He’d disappointed everyone who ever believed in him by being cocky.

Injections followed stabbings and shootings. Punches followed injections. The biggest guys got four or five hits in apiece, aiming for his face and his abdomen. One got a good swing in with a crowbar and cracked Steve’s pelvis. He watched it all because his head was hanging down like a deflated balloon. He couldn’t hear individual words anymore because his head was muddled. Orders were barks, taunts were tones, congratulations were slaps on the back.

There was a noise from the next room. A roar, it sounded like. Then a flash of green light blew the door off its hinges, and a suit-clad Eleanore ran in, breaking the arms and legs of the men as they reached for their guns. Steve couldn’t feel much remorse over that, since they were breaking him. He hoped it wasn’t just her and Jet here to watch him die. He didn’t think she could heal him. Not when things were this bad. 

“Steve. Oh my god.” She slid to a stop in front of him and pulled a long black device from a pocket on her pack. It folded back into a blue flame, which she aimed above his hands and zapped the chain apart with. So they’d equipped her with a laser, after all. She caught him, barely, as he fell, limbs useless. “Loki!” 

When he hit the floor, Steve blacked out for a moment. When his vision returned, Loki was there looking wild-eyed and savage, hands glowing green, armor spattered with blood. He slung Steve’s arm over his shoulders without a word and picked him up effortlessly, one hand holding onto Steve’s middle. His feet dragged over the rough floor as he was carried at a run up through the smoke of the stairwell. Jet was smashing running men with his claws in the open yard outside, his tail whipping into the garage and trashing the vehicles inside. Clint was…  Clint? Yes, Clint was shooting arrows up to the glassless windows, where men fell to the ground with splattering noises. It was a bloodbath. Eleanore, who was carrying his shield, yelled something with a hand to her ear. They fell back to the main entrance, Jet acting as a barricade against the bullets. A quinjet, one of the larger ones, was waiting for them to board. 

Loki laid him on the floor, and Elle knelt beside him, her suit folding itself behind her. “Steve? Can you talk? What did they give you?”

He tried so hard to speak, but his lips wouldn’t even move. He just stared at her worried brown eyes until she gave up on that line of questioning.

“Fine. Clint, take off. Loki, come here.” Jet’s dog form brushed by like a shadow, settling somewhere behind Steve’s head. “Hold him down. I have to get that poison out first thing.”

Loki’s gaze held his as hands pressed down on Steve’s shoulders. The warm tingling of Elle’s healing spread suddenly like fire through his cold veins, zapping his nerves to respond. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body. He jolted involuntarily a few times, choking back swear words and moans. The more the toxin faded, the worse the wounds felt. Loki’s hands held him still.

“Rip his shirt off,” was the next order. It was followed more gently than Steve had expected, warm fingers ripping each sleeve up to the collar, then down the middle until the material fell away limp and blood soaked. 

Steve raised his head through the sluggish haze of his vision to get a look at himself. What he found was mostly covered in red. Bruises were also present and accounted for. He could remember each hit, clubbing, slap. There was a part of the crowbar bruise in sharp relief against his unusually pale abdomen.

“No moving!” Elle laid his head back with a bared palm. “Loki, hold him again. Steve, you can’t move, okay? I have to get those bullets out.”

“It’s fine,” Steve whispered, finding a pool of blood in his mouth. That was disgusting. He hated the taste.

“Shit,” Eleanore’s fingers swiped inside his lips, removing a lot of the obstruction and freeing up his airway. “Okay. Loki, make sure he can still breathe. Do what I just did if you have to.”

“You’d best commence the real healing, or we will be working over a corpse.” Loki’s voice was cold, tense. His hands pressed harder on Steve’s shoulders.

Eleanore didn’t reply, but Steve felt the metal twisting piece by piece, ripping back through the partially-healed entrance wounds. He was so weak, Loki didn’t really need to hold him down. Tears started blurring his vision, and he frustratedly blinked them away, only to feel them drip cool tracks down the sides of his head. There were five fragmented shells, and they came out one at a time. Steve centered on Loki’s eyes without realizing it, fixating on the blue-greenness with jaw-locking determination because he had to  hold still .

“That’s all of them.” Eleanore took more blood out of Steve’s mouth, then pressed both hands to the mess that was his abdomen. “Okay, here we go.” 

The sweet relief from pain started with the exit wounds on his back, and slowly worked their way through to the front. Steve could feel his own strength being used as his muscles and organs knitted back together in sync. He was so tired. Loki looked tired, too. Or just bored? Steve turned to use Elle as a reference. She was biting her lip, hands bloodied up to the elbow, red swiped across her cheek and into her tousled, braided hair, illuminated by the silver-white light of her power. Her eyes were staring blankly at his chest, where the healing was coming to a close. 

Now only his legs burned like fire. 

“Can you get his pants?” Steve felt mildly embarrassed as he felt his jeans being slid down. Thankfully, they left his underwear. No wounds there, although they’d come damn close. The slashes and bruises healed quickly, Steve’s eyelids growing heavier with each progression. When his pelvis popped back into place, he strained and hissed without meaning to. Loki was there again in a second, holding him down. When Elle sat back, he could barely see straight. “Let’s get him on a gurney.”

Steve was lifted again, barely conscious, as he watched a white and silver bed lock into the floor where he’d just been lying. Cool water gathered and drew down his body before he was laid flat on a blessedly soft pillow and covered with a thin, cottony blanket. He felt cold, still, but he didn’t want to make a fuss about it. There was a ringing sound somewhere, but he couldn’t see past a strange descending darkness until a hand carded through his hair. Then he opened his eyes and saw rather than heard Eleanore speaking sharply to someone above him. She was cursing, that much was certain. Steve was glad he couldn’t make out her words through the hazy pulsing in his mind. She looked worn out, taking huge gulps of water from a large bottle, blood splotched all over her yellow shirt and gray leggings. Her eyes shot fire as she got angrier and shouted something at whoever was making her mad. It wasn’t him, he was pretty sure. Not Loki, either, because the demigod was beside him, offering another blanket with a soft voice. That calmed Elle down a little as she tucked the ends around Steve’s arms and feet distractedly. He was much warmer that way. 

“Thanks,” he managed to mutter, feeling so much more comfortable as the cold edged away.

“… sleep. We’ll…you…” Elle patted his shoulder and left her hand there, a warm reassurance beside her garbled words. Steve didn’t know whether he’d be able to sleep on a plane. He watched the ceiling as the lights were dimmed. Watched Elle’s lips move as she spoke to Loki in soft tones. Saw the lights on the ceiling dim. Found his own eyelashes when he unfocused his eyes for long enough. Elle’s hand moved to his forehead, and she spoke again. Steve closed his eyes and knew nothing more.

  



	18. Coming to Terms

After the Captain was asleep, Loki went into the bathroom to wash the blood from his hands and face. He magically cleaned his armor and changed into normal Asgardian clothing. He frowned at his reflection, recalling the inexplicable trust in Rogers’ red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes as Eleanore had pulled shard after shard from his punctured body. Loki had been hurt before, but never so close to death. If he was about to die, he wouldn’t want his last memories to be of his enemy’s face. Then again, the ill-advised man had probably thought Loki’s actions were indicative of some kind of goodness or courage, or any other redeemable quality that would open the way for the friendship he offered.

This did not make them friends. He had to protect these shortsighted mortals, and the fact that the stupid man had run off alone in the first place had only made Loki’s job more difficult. He could not transport himself somewhere he’d never been, and he could not take Eleanore that far anyway if he expected her to be in working order to heal Rogers. The entire situation was ludicrous. Very avoidable, and yet, here they were.

The alarm Loki had set for himself had woken him around the same time Eleanore’s panicking tones had started coming through his bedroom door. Loki had risen and dressed himself casually, finding her in the main room with her phone to her ear. Tony Stark was on the other end, relaying information about something called a ‘terrorist cell’ in a country called Turkey. Apparently the Captain had been sent on a mission to stop them, and he’d gone alone without even a pilot for his plane. 

“How soon can you get a jet here?” Eleanore had asked, looking through Loki with distant determination. The answer was one hour, which she then spent dashing around the apartment, putting on her suit, feeding the cat more than it could eat in a week, practicing with her new weapons, packing and re-packing her medical bag. “By the time we get there, he’ll have been there for hours.”

“Three hours,” Loki concurred, having listened to Stark’s calculations. He was reading his book, having packed his new knives and guns into his magical storage area the night before. The billionaire was not joining them, nor was his son who was still apparently asleep. SHIELD had wanted to keep this operation secret, and Jet alone would draw enough attention without the metal suits blasting everything to pieces. In fact, explosions were to be avoided. The Captain was on a faster vessel that was equipped for speed and stealth. It was under radio silence to prevent any countries from noticing as it flew over. Loki and Eleanore would be taking a plane that was fully stocked with medical supplies, with room for working on an injured person. Radio silence was also advised.

The plane was piloted by Agent Barton himself. Loki had boarded silently, getting plenty of enjoyment from the man’s glare alone. 

“I’m here for Cap,” he’d told Eleanore when she voiced her confusion. “I’m the only one besides Nat trained in covert ops. Just follow my lead.”

Eleanore had glanced back at Loki, but he made busy buckling himself into one of the more comfortable-looking seats. Then she went and sat in the pilot’s area, and she and Barton had a friendly conversation edged with tension. Loki knew they both had family in the same general area of this country, but they did not mention it. After a while, Eleanore came back out and started rehearsing medical techniques, pulling a rolling bed out of its storage area, showing Loki where all the more basic supplies were kept. Blankets, bandages, something called a suture kit, disinfectant. She instructed him on the essential elements of mortal field medicine, which were very similar to those for Asgardian princes going on adventures. Loki had never needed to treat anything worse than a broken wrist before, so he still listened. The messages were simple: keep the heart pumping, the airways clear. Stop bleeding wherever possible, and check for broken bones, especially the spine, before lifting the injured person. Leave internal injuries to Eleanore.

After three and a half hours of flight Eleanore had settled down, taking off her suit and sitting on the bench across from Loki. She petted the dragon-dog as he laid his head on her lap in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Barton stayed at the front of the plane, except for a quick trip to the bathroom. He avoided looking at Loki at all costs.

The plane had begun shaking when they were reportedly two hours away. Eleanore had stumbled to the front, yelled a question over the chattering metal sounds, and returned to her seat with a tragic expression. Loki heard everything: the Captain had missed his return flight, and had not checked in. SHIELD, who’d sent a message at the beginning of their trip expressly not condoning the flight now wanted them to get there as quickly as possible, which meant pushing the plane to its limits and hoping it stayed together. Barton had turned off communications and rerouted all power to the engines. The lights had dimmed, then gone out entirely, so visibility was limited to what was covered by the sun rising through the front windows.

Loki threaded magic through the craft so he’d have some warning before it blew apart. It was still holding together relatively well when Barton called them all forward and started outlining a plan of attack. A holographic image showed the buildings where Rogers might be held. Barton would remain outside, shooting anyone who tried to escape and clearing the top floors of shooters with his trick arrows. Jet would search the vehicle storage, with permission to destroy it without fire if the Captain was not there. Loki and Eleanore would transport into the roof of the inhabited building, searching each room down to the basement. Eleanore’s powers would detect him if he was conscious, but she couldn’t locate him exactly. If Rogers proved to be nowhere on the plot of land, then Barton would lead their investigation until they found him.

Eleanore had put her suit on and shouldered her medical pack. Loki had also arrayed himself in both armor and deflecting spells that would keep bullets from tearing through his only set of warrior apparel. He put a few of the spells on Eleanore as well, so he wouldn’t have to worry about her as they ran through the building. Barton, he thought, would not appreciate any interference from him.

They landed amid a hail of gunfire, and Jet exited first, barreling through the men on the ground, gliding over the building and knocking some off the roof. Loki took Eleanore up there, finding nothing but flat gravel and an open door that led to a small stairwell. Loki sent knives into the men who met them on the stairs, then pulled out his guns and tried them. They worked well enough. He did not bother with finesse, killing whoever confronted him and guarding doors as Eleanore searched each room. 

They found nothing but experiments and explosives on all the floors. Eleanore reported someone who might be the Captain below them as they descended. Always below, even on the ground floor. Loki searched with a burst of energy and found a well-hidden trap door that led into a dungeon that had not been on the known floor plan. Eleanore called it a basement, but it was a dungeon, complete with guards and restraints and cells.

The guards were quickly dispatched with thrown knives and magic. The first couple of doors they opened contained nothing but more chains and a small laboratory. Loki destroyed it carefully, containing the air within the room in case of poison. Finally, he blasted the last door off its hinges out of frustration and Eleanore dashed inside. More men were coming down the stairs, so Loki stayed to deal with them until he heard her call his name.

There was so much blood, all over the floor, covering Rogers’ body and dyeing his white shirt dark red. The man was limp, and Loki thought he was dead at first. Then he found open, searching blue eyes in that mess of a face, and he realized that Captain America was paralyzed on top of his other injuries. There was nothing they could do for him immediately, so Loki slung Rogers’ arm over his shoulders and carried him into the daylight. The wounds only looked worse as they were illuminated, and the Captain’s head lolled about so much that Loki was constantly sure he was just on the verge of dying.

The healing was primitive and horrific. Once Eleanore had removed the paralysis poison, Rogers seemed to be in even more pain. Loki had no trouble holding him down, he was so weak, but he did have trouble holding back a gut reaction to the sound of ripping flesh and choking. He almost lost it when Eleanore pulled a large blood clot from the wounded man’s mouth and casually wiped it on her leggings. Loki had killed before, but he was efficient about it. None of the corpses he left behind ever had much more than a blade mark, much less a bruise. Rogers was almost unrecognizable, only his blue eyes staring out of a swollen face covered in blood. 

The bullets ripped from his skin, creating worse wounds and splattering Eleanore’s clothing with blood. Tears started dripping from the Captain’s eyes, which held onto Loki’s with icy intensity, freezing him in place. He could see varying degrees of relief as the man’s body healed up bit by bit until the blood on his torso was old and drying, not dripping new. His legs followed, and Loki felt the grinding of a broken bone as he tried to remove the blood-soaked black pants. He knelt there as Eleanore laid a hand on Rogers’ hip, and he watched as the welt reduced and disappeared, the hip bone reformed and slid back into place.

Rogers let out a gasp at that, his muscles contracting, sending more blood streaming from his leg wounds. Loki moved back around to hold his shoulders again, watching this time as Eleanore’s magic closed the slashes and stabs more quickly than a healing stone. There was no scarring, nothing but the blood to indicate there had been an injury at all. Some of the bruises were left, Loki assumed, to save Eleanore some energy. They got Rogers onto the rolling bed called a gurney, and she washed his body in one motion. Fixed the swelling on his face in a moment. 

A call came through on the screen that sat in the ceiling of the cabin. It was an unfamiliar SHIELD dispatcher, who claimed responsibility for the entire mission. Loki almost said something sarcastic, but Eleanore’s rage was quicker. She verbally ripped the other woman apart, transforming into a whole new person made of pure anger. She berated the sheer audacity of sending a man recently awakened in modern times into a mission without anyone to watch his back, without full information about the risks. Was SHIELD trying to kill him? The agent would be demoted, if not fired. Sent somewhere she could not hurt anyone with stupid mission orders ever again.

When she did not seem to be slowing down, Loki retrieved another blanket and offered it to her, at which point the agent abruptly ended the transmission. Loki smiled at his reflection as he recalled the quick transition from angry Valkyrie to concerned friend. So she could be roused to annoyance and rage, and now he knew of one way to do it.

He sighed, coming fully back to the present, drying his hands and exiting the tiny bathroom. Barton was just walking through the pilot’s area doorway. He paused when he met Loki’s eyes, then drew himself up and continued, examining the sleeping Captain. Eleanore was also asleep, curled on a bench with Jet as a pillow. She’d cleaned the blood off the floor with her control of water, then disinfected it until there was no trace of it left. The bloody material was in a plastic bag by the hatch.

“She does good work,” Barton sounded impressed. 

“She has a gift,” Loki agreed, moving to sit out of the man’s way in an empty seat at Eleanore’s feet. The memories of gore were already fading from his mind, letting his stomach settle into its normal stillness.

Barton stood silent for a moment, looking down at the floor. “Nat said no one knows about… the farm.”

“No?” Loki was confused. He thought that the man would have told at least a few people about his hidden family, if only to protect them if he was killed.

“You really didn’t tell anyone?” Barton was incredulous.

“Why would I?” There was no fun in controlling the very human agent anymore. Loki’s goals were set much higher. Or at least differently. They would be when he had a real goal, anyway.

“Because you… You still hate us. I know you do. This…” he gestured over Eleanore and the Captain, “this is just because of that spell, right?”

“I have to protect them, yes. But despite what you seem to think, I do not target helpless women and children.” Loki shrugged, raising an eyebrow and giving the Avenger with whom he’d spent the most time a mischievous grin. “At least not without some purpose.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Barton growled, meeting Loki’s eyes with tense caution. “That’s my family. My kids.”

“They are in no danger from me. Not now, and likely not ever.” Loki needed to gain the Avengers’ trust. They trusted Barton, and Loki needed to at least lessen Barton’s animosity if he was to develop a hold on the powerful team. “Will that suffice to reassure you?”

Barton scowled and looked away, his eyes falling on the blood-splotched woman to Loki’s right. “Were you really mind-controlled?”

Loki’s initial flash of anger was tamed under his own suspicion. Was he really mind-controlled? That would explain his current state of imbalance, how anger left him drained, the way he could turn on a moment’s notice into a dispassionate killer. He’d never been that way in the past, not when he’d thought himself a prince. He’d hated killing and violence then, going so far as to distance himself from the Jotuns’ deaths via the Bifrost. Now, he just hated dealing with the aftermath. He also used to be much more rational, taking down anyone with their own words. Now he was bested by sick women and their daughters. “I… I am unsure,” he answered honestly. “If I was, I think I was a much more willing subject than you were.”

“Because you were mad at your parents?” Barton pressed. He was no longer scowling, but he still looked unconvinced. “Why don’t you know if you were or not?”

“I have no family,” Loki said simply, no real emotion behind it. Just emptiness. “And I am still… My memory is not clear. I recall using you…” He stopped himself. This was more than he’d told Eleanore, more than anyone knew. Then again, Barton also likely remembered his time spent with Loki. “I recall wanting this planet. I no longer feel that way. I do not recall when I began desiring it, or when that feeling went away. In short, I cannot remember a series of events that specifically led to my actions, other than the ones that led to my original fall.”

Barton was staring at him impassively. The man was a true spy, as good as Romanov at hiding his emotions behind a mask. “That’s how I felt. Right after… When Nat hit me on the head and I woke up, I couldn’t remember why I even wanted to help you. I still don’t remember you roping me into it. And when I did everything… I wanted to. But when I got better, I was… I didn’t want to have done those things. So yeah,” Barton scrutinized him with narrowed eyes, then shrugged. “If what you say is true, then you’re recovering.”

“How do you know what you want, then?” Loki asked before he thought about it. Sometimes he wanted to kill everyone in sight, and other times he just wanted peace and quiet. He’d saved Eleanore and now Rogers without thinking of the spell that bound them. He also wanted to break their necks when he thought of that spell. So what did he truly desire?

“I want to be who I was before, so that’s who I act like,” Barton said, as though it was obvious. 

“Well, that is not possible for me.” It was Loki’s turn to scowl at his past. The naive boy who’d tried so hard, only to fall short because he was, in all respects, a monster. So many years wasted chasing an impossible goal.

“I don’t know what to tell you, then.” Barton shrugged and headed back up to the front of the plane. “But let me know if you figure something out.” He paused before the door, not turning back. “Don’t waste your second chance.”

Loki sat back in his seat, staring at the whiteness of the blankets, the rise and fall of the Captain’s breathing. Who was he supposed to be? All his life, he’d been first and foremost a prince, with lessons, training, parenting all tailored to that identity. People had treated him like a prince, and he’d treated them like he was one. These people treated him as an equal, and in truth he was. Or something lesser. A monster. But he knew he did not want to be a monster, it was just a fact of his biology. Who would want to be Jotun, if they had a choice? Like Eleanore’s resemblance to her mother, personality and all, he was doomed to be monstrous from birth. He was disguised, though, and the mortals had no idea about that side of his identity. He would keep it that way. But who did he want to be? He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, running a hand that smelled like the bathroom soap over his face. This was impossible to answer in his current state. No matter who he wanted to act like, anger could change him into something unrecognizable. So the first step was controlling himself. 

If he could regain control, he could… what? Rewrite his identity? Mortals had short memories, but Asgard and the rest of the Nine would only see him as the traitor prince. So he could return to Asgard in disgrace after whatever change Eleanore demanded had been acted out. That was his future. No matter what identity he laid out for himself here, he would be forced back into the role of dutiful son and advisee to the Throne when Thor ascended. 

He needed a distraction if he was to curtail the rage building in his chest. Loki rose and paced over to the small storage cabinet, looking through the things Eleanore had left out of her medical tour. There were more blankets, though these were thicker and gray. Bottles of water and a small array of snacks were kept in a small box on the shelf above, next to a stack of material. Loki looked through these and found sets of loose, uniform clothing like the exercise items back in the apartment. He glanced back at Eleanore, whose clothes were ruined, and set aside a short sleeved gray shirt and a black pair of pants, which had a drawstring in their waist. The rest of the cupboard held parachutes and flotation devices, along with a box with a picture of a strange raft on it. 

“Loki?” Rogers’ voice scraped against his ears. Loki turned and found the man looking around, trying to sit up.

“I believe Lady Eleanore would tell you to lie still,” he said, glancing at the still-sleeping healer. He examined the weak man in front of him, and found chapped lips and sunken eyes. “Are you ill? I’ll wake her.”

“No, don’t.” Rogers raised a hand. “I’m just thirsty. I’ll be fine.”

“If that is all,” Loki took one of the water bottles from the cupboard, uncapped it, and handed over. Rogers once again tried to sit up, but he only succeeded in spilling a good deal of his first drink all over the blankets. Loki sighed. “Here. Lie back.” He adjusted the bed to a more upright position as Eleanore had taught him on their flight over.

“Thanks,” Rogers said, downing the bottle in a few quick gulps. Loki handed him another one, and he drank it just as fast, looking a little better. More awake, at least. Still pale as a corpse, but his eyes were brighter. 

Loki noticed him shiver and returned to the cupboard, finding the largest long sleeved shirt he could. All the shirts were gray, all the trousers were black. “Can you manage this?”

“Think so,” Rogers grinned at him, pulling the garment over his head. He wrestled it over his torso before sitting back, out of breath. “See? Good as new.”

Loki didn’t like the friendly look in the man’s eye. He frowned at him, and closed the cupboard door. “May I otherwise be of service?”

“You okay?” Honest concern clouded the soldier’s features. “Is everyone… Did they all get out okay?”

“Go to sleep, Captain.” Loki shook his head at the near-panic his evasion caused. “Everyone except you escaped without injury.” He picked up the clothes for Eleanore and laid them on the seat by her feet, then sat down on the other side of the plane. He pulled a book from the air, one about the history of Muspelheim that he’d never finished in three hundred years. 

Rogers laid back obediently, relief written clear across his features. He looked Eleanore and Jet over, then tried to turn around to get a look at their pilot. That did not work, and he settled back, arms shaking, paler than before. After that, he stared straight ahead resolutely, his eyes flickering over to Loki every so often. 

That did away with whatever concentration Loki might have had. “What is it?”

“Sorry, it’s just… Did the bombs get stopped?” the Captain asked quietly, looking like he anticipated a harsh answer.

Loki actually felt a small amount of pity for the idiot. He squashed it, shaking his head. “As far as I know, yes. But I was not aware of your full mission in the first place, so I could not tell you whether it was successful or not.” He thought for a second, then stood. “Wait a moment.” 

He stepped into the pilot’s area, startling Barton, who swore. “What do you want?”

“Have you any informational device? The Captain is awake and asking questions.” Loki remained polite, enjoying the spluttering that was coming to a stop.

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Barton handed him a shiny rectangle, like a large cell phone. “So far no reports of terror attacks. We might have stopped them. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Thank you.” Loki took the rectangle back to Rogers and watched as he quickly pulled up different news sites. Loki had seen these when his henchmen had gauged the public reaction to his appearance in Stuttgart. SHIELD had covered it up well, so he barely made an impact.

“Thanks,” Rogers said as an afterthought, not looking up from something called BBC. 

“It appears you have nothing to fear.” Loki sat back and resumed his book. 

“Did you find the leader? Big guy, stubble, wearing the only bulletproof vest.” Rogers’ expression fell as Loki shook his head.

“I personally did not. Perhaps Barton shot him, or the dragon trampled him to a pulp,” Loki suggested. It was entirely possible, even probable.

“I don’t think so,” the Captain said dejectedly. “He left right after they started on me. I heard cars leaving. They just haven’t struck yet.” He looked down at Loki’s book. “Sorry, I’ll let you read.”

“It was boring three hundred years ago, and it has not changed.” Loki shrugged off the apology and vanished the book again. “What was their plan?” He understood the man’s frustration. Still, if he had only had someone along with him, he would not be in this situation.

“Intel said biological bombs in highly populated areas. Experiments on a massive scale.” Rogers handed him the tablet, and Loki started scrolling through all the stories. There was nothing to warn of such an attack.

“Steve?” Eleanore finally woke up, looking immediately confused and concerned. “When did you wake up? How do you feel? Here, look at me.” She pulled a tiny flashlight from her pack and held Rogers’ chin. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

“I’m fine,” the soldier protested, still following the order anyway. 

“Which is why you cannot put a shirt on without gasping for air,” Loki enjoyed the glare he got in response to that interjection.

“Where did you get a shirt?” Eleanore looked around as though clothes would appear from the ceiling. 

“Loki got it from that closet.” Rogers submitted to the rest of the examination, letting Eleanore take his pulse and put a shining hand over his head, chest, stomach, legs. 

“You’re just recovering from blood loss,” she said, standing straight. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Shaky,” Rogers sighed. “Weak. Tired, I guess. I don’t want to sleep right now, though.”

“Then just lie still,” Eleanore told him. “Have you had any water?”

“Two bottles,” Loki said, pulling another one from its shelf and handing it to the ‘patient’. “Here. And I set some clothes for you over there. Unless you like wearing blood.”

“Oh, thanks.” Eleanore looked down at herself. “Well, so much for these. Although they might make me look more intimidating. What do you think?” She spread her arms out, then faked an angry expression.

“Terrifying.” Barton stepped out of the control room, grinning a little. “Hey, Cap. Remind me to put a tracker on your shield.”

“He won’t be going without backup again,” Eleanore said, looking actually stern. 

“I know, I know.” Rogers gave a crestfallen nod. “Sorry.”

“They shouldn’t have sent you out alone in the first place,” Eleanore placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Nat’s already checking up on the lady who was in charge,” Barton said, sitting and lifting an arrow from the quiver next to him, examining it as he spoke. “Sounds like it was a rookie mistake. Kid got excited when she finally found the cell’s hideout, sent Captain America in to clear it up. Thought you’d both be heroes.”

“Doesn’t she have a supervisor? How’d a missing plane slip through the cracks?” Eleanore asked, still irritated.

“Listen, you’re new to this. We work with humans, Elle. People make mistakes.” Barton shrugged. “We’ll learn from it.” 

Loki looked at Eleanore to see if she took issue with the ‘humans’ comment, but she appeared to have ignored it. He wondered if she thought of herself as human or something other. Possibly both.

Eleanore gave it up with a sigh. “I’ll let Nat take care of it, then. Be right back.” She turned and picked up the clothing before disappearing into the bathroom.

“I’ll get back to flying the plane,” Barton clapped Rogers on the shoulder as he headed up to pilot again. “We’re still a few hours away. Where should I drop you?”

“Back home, please!” Eleanore yelled through the door. She opened it and stuck her head out. “Unless you want to go to the hospital, Steve?”

“No, thanks.” Rogers shook his head. “Home’s good.” Loki privately agreed, having had enough excitement to last him a few days, at least. If his two charges were in the same building, it would be much easier to watch over them.

Eleanore disappeared again, emerging a moment later with wet hair and bulky clothes. “That’s better.” She looked over at Loki. “Thanks for the clothes. How’s it going?”

“I am healthy as ever,” Loki informed her, returning his attention to the tablet in his hand. “Learning about the miracle of humankind.”

“Want me to leave you alone?”

“That would be preferable, yes.” Loki focused on the different news stories as Eleanore fussed around the Captain, getting him one of the thicker gray blankets, making sure he drank enough water and ate one of the granola bars she always had on hand. She made him lift his legs to test the healing on his hip bones, then nearly fell over as the plane hit a rough patch of air.

“I think you better sit down,” Rogers told her as she righted herself on the railing of his bed. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eleanore smiled and buckled herself into the seat, petting Jet again and tucking her knees close to her chest. 

The communications hub buzzed again, and so did the tablet Loki held. The dark haired woman who had shot at him when he first arrived on Earth appeared, looking flinty as ever. Loki quirked an eyebrow at her, and silently handed the technology over to Eleanore.

“Maria,” she greeted her, holding the rectangle up to eye level. “What’s up?”

“Is Rogers awake?” this ‘Maria’ got right to the point. 

“I’m right here Agent Hill,” Rogers answered, holding out his hands and taking the tablet for himself. “What’s this about?”

“Jesus, they really did a number on you,” the agent muttered. She quickly regained her composure. “I’m calling for your debriefing report, since your medic is taking your home without coming into the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Rogers said for the thousandth time that day, drawing himself up and looking as able as a very weak and pale man could. “I’ll give my report in person, if that’s what you prefer.”

“I can see you’re lying on a gurney, and you look like crap. Just tell me now. I’ll record it for posterity.” 

“Fine.” The soldier sighed, closing his eyes before he began, his voice distant. “I was informed of my mission at oh three thirty, and taken to SHIELD headquarters, where I was given a packet and briefed shortly before taking off. I hit the target at oh ten hundred local time, landing on the roof of the apartment building and making my way to the third floor where I was… compromised. The enemy had a paralysis drug, and they got four darts and a syringe in me before taking me down. They took me to a basement and performed physical torture with the eventual intent to kill. While I was there, I heard the leader leave with three or four large vehicles, possibly filled with their bombs. I was down there for two and a half hours. Clint, Loki, Eleanore, and Jet pulled me out and got me on the plane, where Eleanore performed medical treatment while Loki assisted. That’s it.”

If that ever happened to him, Loki would have been livid and seeking revenge on whoever sent him into that place to die. Rogers was the opposite, seeming to accept it as part of the job. Is that who I should be?

“Thank you, Captain.” Agent Hill said, writing something down. “Can you hand me back to Eleanore or Loki? Clint already gave his report.”

Rogers handed the tablet to Eleanore when Loki shrugged it off. She took it, frowning, sitting up straight. “Ready?”

“Yep, whenever you are.”

“Okay. Loki and I were informed of Captain Rogers’ solo departure at oh four thirty by Tony Stark, who you really need to lock out of your systems by the way.” Loki grinned. This was shaping up to be much less professional and much more entertaining. 

“I know. Problem is, he writes a lot of our software. Or Darren does, and he’s just as willing to hack us.” Hill rolled her eyes, “Back to the debrief.”

“Tony sent one of his jets. It was slower than the one St— the Captain was on, but it also had medical supplies. Can you make it a point not to send anyone out without a pilot?”

“Eleanore.”

“Then we flew across the Atlantic Ocean for five hours, arriving at the target at… thirteen hundred, right?” Eleanore looked at Rogers, who nodded. “Agent Barton provided cover fire and Jet provided cover smashing while Loki and I searched the apartment building from the roof down. We found a lot of biological bombs, Maria. Is there a team cleaning it up yet?”

“Yes, we’re analyzing everything. Continue.”

“The rooms on the first to fifth floors were bomb-creation and sleeping quarters. Talk about taking your work home. I located Captain Rogers’ general position as below us, but we reached the ground floor without finding him. Loki found a trap door, which led to a basement — he called it a dungeon — where guards were holding Captain Rogers in chains, hanging from the ceiling, beating, shooting, and stabbing him to death. His regenerative ability is the only reason he survived that long. He was drugged, completely paralyzed, and I conservatively estimate his blood loss at about four to five pints. Four to five pints, Maria. His suit had been removed, but I was able to salvage his shield as Loki pulled him from the building and onto the plane. Clint took off as soon as we were all on board, and Loki assisted me while we first removed the paralysis drug, which felt like poison. It was deadening his nerves, and they’d injected him with more faster than he was burning it off. Then we pulled five bullets from his body and healed everything up. Captain Rogers was suffering from a fractured pelvis, contusions, the aforementioned blood loss, fourteen bullet wounds, and twenty really damn deep lacerations ranging from his feet to his head. Once he was healed, I yelled at that… operations coordinator. And Captain Rogers went to sleep. The end.”

“Thank you. Now I need to hear Loki’s side.” Agent Hill’s two-dimensional face was handed across Rogers’ body to him, and Loki took it. He composed himself because he was inwardly grinning from Eleanore’s statement.

“Agent Hill,” he greeted her, keeping his face blank.

“Loki. I’ll take your statement.” She didn’t show any recognition, nor any animosity.

“Certainly. As Lady Eleanore stated, we set off from Washington DC at five thirty in the morning. We flew across the ocean and listened to Agent Barton’s plan of attack, which we followed. I transported Eleanore to the roof, and we searched for Captain Rogers, finding him in the dungeon.” Loki looked up and got an eye roll from Eleanore and a grin from Rogers. “I helped him out of the building and onto the plane. Lady Eleanore did the real healing, but I am happy to be of service, of course.” He stopped, since his sarcasm was getting out of hand. “The building had several rooms for making explosive devices, but only one laboratory, also located in the dungeon. I would be interested to know what they were working on.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got it tested,” Agent Hill said. “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“No.” Loki handed the tablet back to Eleanore because she reached for it. 

“Anything else for us, Maria?” she asked.

“That’s it for now. We may have questions for you, or we might bring you in for examinations, depending on what kinds of stuff you guys walked through. Try to rest up. We’re getting an influx of enhanced villains, and not as many heroes to fight them. We’ll need the Avengers soon.” The screen went dark, leaving the plane in relative silence.

“Good to know we’re still useful,” Eleanore joked, walking over to the cupboard and getting Rogers another bottle of water. She opened her pack and took out some sort of listening device that she stuck in her ears. She placed the circular end of it on the Captain’s chest. “Deep breaths.” He complied, going paler after breathing three times. “I think you should maybe go to the hospital for observation.”

“No. I feel better already,” Rogers protested, shaking his head. 

“You don’t get to say you feel better while you’re lying still in a bed.” Eleanore lifted his chin and checked his pulse. “I’m not a doctor, Steve.”

“You’re better than my last doctor,” he replied. Loki wondered what that story was, because it made Eleanore frown and raise her eyebrow.

“I told you they’re not all like that. Your pulse isn’t very steady, and your heart sounds faint. You got hit a bunch of places, maybe with lasting side effects.” 

“What’s a doctor gonna do about that, though?” Rogers was stubborn, setting his jaw and returning her stare. Loki geared up to remember ever minute of the possible fight.

“Give you some blood. Duh. And check you over for nerve damage. You can’t just shrug that off, Steve.”

“You checked my nerves. And I’m regenerating the blood.”

“I removed the poison that was deadening them, and healed them a little bit. And I’m tired, Steve. I don’t think I could bring you back again, not for a few days.”

Rogers looked her over, much less obstinate. “I’m sorry. Sorry you’re tired, sorry you had to come get me. But I really want to hold off on the hospital. I’ll do everything you say, I’ll stay in bed. I’ll eat everything and drink my body weight in water. If I get worse, then I’ll go to the doctor’s, but not before.”

Eleanore bit the inside of her cheek and looked over at Loki. He shrugged to say, ‘I have nothing to say on the matter.’ She drew her lips into a thin line. “No exercise for two days, at least.”

“Deal,” Rogers said, sighing. He looked up and gave Eleanore a forced smile. “Maybe you should be a doctor.”

“No.” She shook her head, listening to his heart again. “I still don’t like this.”

Well I don’t like my situation either. Sometimes you must give in, Loki thought, but didn’t say. 

Eleanore laughed suddenly, “I can feel your sarcasm from here, Loki. You can just say it.”

“Or you could quit invading my privacy,” he countered, baring his teeth in a feral smile. 

“Sorry, it’s hard to control sometimes.” She looked unapologetic, which angered him further. Whoever he was to become, he did not want it to be her.

“Practice creates perfection,” he said, liking the originality of his new saying. 

She just rolled her eyes. “Not all of us get to spend two hundred years practicing. But I’ll try to do better.”

“We’ve got about an hour, guys,” Barton said, coming through to use the bathroom. “Still no hospital?”

“No,” Rogers said, turning back to meet his eyes. 

“Okay, if you say so.” Barton shrugged. “Hey Loki, I have a question.”

“What is it?” Loki asked, prepared for something awful. There was no way the man had fully forgiven him yet, if he ever would. Loki wouldn’t, if he were in that position.

“If you got Elle up to the roof, why didn’t you just transport there, grab Steve, and come back?”

“Ah,” Loki nodded at the legitimate query. “Larger distances take more of a toll on the bodies transported, and I can only go where I already have a solid conception of the space. Also, it is supremely difficult to go from a moving state to a still state and land in the right position. If I had attempted such a thing, Rogers would not have survived, and I might have died along with him, if I could transport back at all.”

“Huh,” Barton cocked his head, thinking the concept over. “Makes sense. Gotta pee.” He disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

The rest of the flight was blessedly quiet. Loki experimented with more variations on appearing and disappearing his new knives, getting a feel for them. Rogers watched him silently, almost dozing at times. Eleanore played around with the tablet and texted Darren from her cell phone.

“Stealth mode,” Barton’s voice informed them from over the plane’s speakers. “We’re right above your building. How’s this gonna go?”

“Loki?” Eleanore asked politely, shouldering her pack. 

Loki sighed imperceptibly and stood, looping Rogers’ arm over his shoulders again as the man tried dizzily to sit up on his own. The hatch opened, and Eleanore jumped onto the roof and turned back to watch their progress. Loki easily supported Rogers, who helped a lot more now that he could somewhat control his muscles. It was a little more awkward with the man still in his underwear, but they managed. Eleanore held the door for them, and unlocked Rogers’ apartment door with her spare key. Rogers quietly requested Loki to leave him in the bathroom a moment, so he did, standing outside the door and hearing everything. After that, Loki took the man to the bedroom and found a pair of sweatpants. Rogers hastily donned them, lying sideways on his bed afterward, breathing hard.

“Okay, Steve.” Eleanore said, stepping around Loki and drawing the covers back. She helped the Captain to right himself on the mattress and pulled the blankets up so he could reach them. She looked exhausted, but her voice didn’t betray her. “I’m going to pop one of those leftover meals in the oven. Lasagna or chicken casserole?”

“Whichever is fine,” Rogers relaxed with a sigh, looking even weaker in his large bed. 

“Okay. Sleep if you can. I’ll bring some water in in a minute,” Eleanore checked his pulse once more, watching the clock on the wall as the second hands passed. “Just rest, and let me know if you need something.”

“Thanks. I will.” The soldier closed his eyes as they left, peace crossing his features.

“So do you want lasagna or chicken casserole?” Eleanore asked Loki as she filled a lidded plastic cup from the sink.

“What is lasagna?” Loki asked. 

“Layers of pasta and meat and cheese. It’s really good.”

“Chicken casserole, then.” Loki looked around, then picked up Rogers’ sketchbook as Eleanore went into the bedroom. He thumbed through the pages, actually impressed with the realistic depictions captured from the man’s everyday life. His favorite by far was the page covered in mistakes as the Captain had tried to capture the cat in motion. Eventually the artist had given up and waited until the animal curled up and fell asleep. He found mountains covered in snow with a tiny train running through them. Portraits of unfamiliar men. Himself. Loki paused at that, looking over the rendering of him with the cat in his lap, reading a book. This was from just a couple of days ago. What caught Loki off guard most was the aspect Rogers had put on his face: calm and distracted with reading, his body relaxed, his expression open. Every bit a man at peace with himself. Loki hadn’t seen himself that way in almost a century, not even when he looked in the mirror. That is who I want to be. 

“Loki,” Eleanore whispered, catching him off guard. “Ask before you look through that. It might be private.” She walked over and took the book from his hand gently, closing it without looking at its pages. 

“My apologies,” Loki forced out, stuck in the middle of a revelation.

Eleanore stopped and looked up at him with attentive eyes. He met her gaze, mind still spinning, moving slowly around this new idea. It felt like his thoughts were slipping way before he could fully grasp them. He was getting frustrated, trying to remember the last time he’d felt truly confident in himself, in who he was. 

“If you need some time,” Eleanore started, speaking quietly, jarring all the ideas to a standstill, “our apartment’s unlocked. I’ll stay over here tonight. Supper’ll be ready in a couple hours.”

“Right.” Loki left abruptly, walking into the main room lit with late afternoon sunlight. The cat trilled over to him and he picked it up, trying to remember what he’d felt that day when he was reading. He’d had a pleasant enough day, sparring and whatnot with Darren and the Captain. He’d been physically spent and ready to wind down. But it was impossible to maintain that sort of physicality at all times. What did he want to be? Not just an idea, but a person, an entire, multi-layered personality. How did he perceive himself now? Monster was the first word that came to mind. There was no escaping it. But what else? What more than that?

He’d seen amazing things in his long, privileged lifetime. Just living on Asgard offered wonderful scenery and incredible magical features. Alfheim’s people lived at one with their planet’s energy, making houses from trees and whole forest cities. He’d learned from the best sorcerers in all the Nine, whether Odin had liked it or not. He’d grown up in Thor’s shadow, yes, but he’d grown strong on his own. He’d gone on quests and adventures, finding wonderful treasures and even better memories. He’d nearly ended Jotunheim, an accomplishment in itself, and one which he would always be proud of. He’d killed on Midgard as well, but that was less impressive. Pointless, even, because the mortals were so numerous and headstrong. 

None of this was helping him reach a conclusion. Maybe there was no conclusion, just a half-formed thought that he’d latched onto with his last remaining vestiges of hope. He’d wanted to be at peace with himself, but who was self-aware and truly at peace? Not the Captain, though he acted self-assured. Neither of the Starks, and not Romanov or Barton. Banner was laughable. Eleanore was the only person who came to mind, and she did not count, as she was so incredibly young. Lydia was the next answer, and she was legitimate. Dying and serene, she knew who she was and what she wanted. He put the cat down and transported himself immediately, without waiting to think things through until he was standing in her room, breathless with discovery.

“Oh my gosh!” There was a thump as something heavy fell to the carpet. Loki turned around from facing the bed and found Lydia Engman with a hand to her throat, the other having dropped a cup of water.

“Forgive me,” Loki said hastily, magicking the glass off the floor and drying the water. 

“Is something wrong? Is Elle okay?” the woman asked, stepped forward and looking Loki over. She’d only find his Asgardian attire, which was casual and comfortable and not indicative of battle at all. 

“Yes, please do not concern yourself.” Loki held his hands out, feeling absolutely foolish for taking such drastic action without giving it a moment’s thought. “I just wanted to visit.”

“Oh.” Lydia settled down almost immediately, turning back to the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

“I can get it,” Loki offered. 

“No, it’s my room, my rules. Sit.” She got out two mugs, the same ones from the day before, and filled them with water before putting them in the heating box. 

“Your cord is missing,” Loki observed, falling into a comfortable rhythm already. He would not offend this woman easily, so he could say exactly what he liked. He did follow her order to sit, taking his seat from the day before.

“I only have it for a day or so each time,” Lydia informed him. The box beeped and she put teabags in the mugs, and a bit of sugar in one before bringing them over. “So, you’re feeling social?”

“One could say that,” Loki had no idea how to start the conversation. Had no idea what he even wanted to know. Lydia, how do you deal with the idea of your mortality? What made you who you are? How many vague questions will you puzzle over before you send me on my way?

“Well, one might call me surprised. Are you sure everything’s okay?” 

“Captain Rogers suffered injuries on a mission,” Loki said truthfully. “Your daughter and I brought him back. He is very weak.”

“You can just call her Eleanore. It’s what I named her.” Lydia sat back and set her mug aside. “Is Steve going to be alright?”

“It appears so, yes.”

“That’s good.”

She was trying to politely draw him out, but Loki was at a loss. He felt the futility of the situation, and stood. “I’m sorry. I should leave.”

“What? No, sit back down. You can’t just leave me with a full mug of tea to waste.” Lydia half-rose, a pained expression crossing her face.

“I came to ask unanswerable questions,” Loki admitted, preparing to transport away in embarrassment. If he was lucky, Eleanore would not know of this situation. 

“Well, try me. I like a challenge. And drink your damn tea.”

“Very well.” Loki looked down at her and frowned, contemplating her steady, dark eyes so like her daughter’s. “How do you make peace with your death?”

“Oh, that.” Lydia waved him over. “Sit down, if that’s all you’re worried about. Jeeze, I thought you were going to ask me about childbirth or something.”

“Does childbirth come into it?” Loki asked, smiling in spite of himself. He sat back down on the edge of the chair. 

“Depends on your perspective. But it’s not very complicated. When I found out that this was the end, I just accepted it and went on living.”

“You…” Loki tried to swallow that answer, but could not. “You went on dying.”

“Everyone’s dying, even you, God of Mischief.” Lydia smiled at him and sipped her tea. “I’ve had this disease for two years. If I just gave up when I found out about it, that’d be two wasted years.”

“I suppose so.” This didn’t help him. He searched for a better question. “But how are you so… self-assured.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m dying. And I’m a middle-aged woman. We don’t change a lot after college, unless something big happens. Like childbirth,” she winked at him.

“I’m not asking about childbirth, thank you.” Loki shook his head in exasperation. “This is not going to work. I don’t know what I want to ask you.”

“Why don’t you tell me why you came here instead? And no ‘unanswerable questions.’”

“I…” Loki put his face in his hands and sat down, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know. Not yet. Thank you for the tea. I should go.”

“That’s fine, but stay awhile. You made the trip, and I like company.” 

Loki considered it and consented. Eleanore would condone it, apparently, since he had not been prevented from his trip. “I apologize for the vagaries.”

“I raised a teenage daughter. Vagaries are okay.” Lydia smiled at him over the rim of her mug. “So Steve got hurt, huh?”

“It was fairly serious,” Loki said, knowing she would warm to a story of her daughter’s bravery. “He left on his own to take down a terrorist cell, and got captured. Luckily, Tony Stark called your daughter and sent another jet to let us follow him. We rescued him, and your daughter brought him back from the brink of death.”

“Do you know her name?” Lydia asked, frowning at him. 

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” 

“You never use her name. I named her after queens and a very smart, strong woman, and you just call her ‘my daughter.’”

“Fine. Lady Eleanore brought Captain Rogers back from the brink of death.” Loki rolled his eyes in exasperation. “She is also your daughter, so the title is accurate.”

“No Ladies. Eleanore saved Steve’s life. How bad was Steve hurt?” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him in a direct impression of her daughter’s no-nonsense-you-better-not-fight-with-me expression.

“Captain Rogers lost four to five pints of blood.” Loki had no problem arguing with someone, no matter their expressiveness.

“Holy crap,” Lydia’s jaw dropped. “He’s still alive?”

“For the moment.” Loki enjoyed shocking people. “He resisted a hospital visit and is resting comfortably at home.”

“Is Elle okay? How tired was she after helping him?” 

“I have seen her in worse condition,” Loki said honestly. “When we were cleaning up New York.”

“Do me a favor and make sure she sleeps tonight. If she’s tense or worried, she’ll only have bad dreams and stay awake all night long.” 

“And how do you suggest I help her sleep?” Loki asked. “I know of one surefire way, but I doubt you or Darren would approve.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, don’t be gross.” Lydia shook her head and reached over to hit him on the arm.

“My lady, I am merely suggesting the use of a sleeping spell!” Loki used his most innocent expression, which hadn’t seen the light of day in decades. 

“You’re so full of it,” Lydia chortled, laughing merrily as Loki smiled at his success.

“If by ‘it’ you mean cunning and intelligence and magical prowess, then you could not be more correct.”

“I meant shit, but sure. Let’s go with those.” Lydia laughed again, and Loki grinned. 

Suddenly, a mortal song started playing from over by her bed.

“Oh, that’s my phone. Could you hand it to me?” 

“Of course.” Loki got up and retrieved the device from the bedside table, noting Eleanore’s picture and name on the screen. He gave the phone to Lydia, resisting the temptation to answer it himself.

“Hey, babydoll,” Lydia greeted her daughter.

“Mom, I can’t find Loki anywhere! I don’t know what happened, but he was acting weird earlier, and then he went to our apartment from Steve’s while I cooked supper, but he’s gone for sure and I have no idea where he could be, and—” Loki raised his brow at the absolute panic that came from the phone’s tiny speaker, and the fact that Eleanore first called her mother for advice.

“Honey, he’s right here,” Lydia interrupted Eleanore. “Take a breath, okay? He came to visit me. We’re having tea.”

“Tea. Are you serious? I’ve been running all over the neighborhood, through the whole gym… Is he okay? Why’s he visiting you? He was acting like something was bothering him earlier.”

“You’ll have to ask him about that,” Lydia said. She gestured with her hand, “Loki, come here and tell Eleanore that you’re okay.”

“No, it’s okay Mom. I’m just glad he’s safe. I have to go check on Steve.” Loki could hear a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “I’ll come visit tomorrow. Jaya sent you a to-go box again. Love you, bye.” 

The line went silent, leaving Lydia staring up at Loki. “You scared the crap out of her.”

“She has plenty to spare. Is that how you’d put it?” Loki was annoyed. Eleanore could not even let him out of her sight for two hours without wanting him back under her control. He flopped back in the chair and took a gulp of lukewarm tea.

“Someone’s a pouty pants.” Lydia chuckled and crossed her legs, setting her phone on the arm of her chair.

“Someone’s daughter is an annoyance,” Loki said snidely. He knew that was being unfair, telling a mother unkind things about her own child, but he didn’t care.

“I don’t know who that could be,” Lydia joked. “Why do you hate her so much? She seems to like you.”

“Poor judgment on her part,” Loki muttered. 

“Look, I know you have to stay with her, but is she that bad? Really?”

“She took my freedom away,” Loki snarled. “She is my jailer, tying me to this miserable planet. Do you think I should thank her for it?”

“Whew,” Lydia let out a breath. “Sounds like that was boiling inside for a little too long.”

“Do you not understand? She is the festering wound on the face of my existence.”

Lydia looked at him for a moment, then started laughing, even louder than before. Loki waited for her to get over her episode of insanity, but she only got worse.

“Shall I leave you to your mirth?” he asked, glaring.

“I’m sorry, am I being a pimple?” Lydia lost her composure entirely, cackling like a witch. Loki’s confusion and anger were slowly replaced by humor as he thought about what she could find so funny. Probably, no one she knew had ever been compared to an infection. It was a tad dramatic. Not over dramatic, just dramatic. He started laughing too, and soon they were both sliding in their seats, lost in a bout of pure hilarity. It was not just the joke, but the laughter that kept building on itself more and more until his sides hurt. He hadn’t laughed like this in such a long time, not since before he learned the truth about himself. 

And why can a monster not laugh? he asked himself as Lydia started wiping tears from her eyes. He indulged his own giggles a moment, longer, growing more composed with only the occasional outburst.

“Oh, that was amazing,” Lydia said, sitting up again and picking up her phone from where it had fallen to the floor. 

Loki chuckled, “I live to entertain.” 

“But really,” Lydia grew serious again, although a smile still lurked around the corners of her mouth, “you hate her that much?”

Loki thought about it for a moment. Did he hate Eleanore? Certainly, he had when they’d first met, but he’d hated everyone then with a sort of all-consuming passion that, in hindsight, could have been enhanced by the lingering effects of mind control. In his current mood, he did not hate many people, but that could always change. “Hate might not be the right word. Resent. I resent Eleanore. She holds me hostage here, while I waste my time among you. Saving short lives for a few more years before they would…” he trailed off. Lydia only had a year. He didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want anyone to die, but especially not this motherly, humorous, understanding woman. 

“It’s not the time,” Lydia said gently, seemingly reading his mind. “It’s how you use it.”

“I can see that,” Loki said quietly, feeling the lightness from their bout of laughter draining away to somber realizations.

“Can I make a suggestion?” she asked.

“You are likely to either way.” He waited with anticipation.

“Maybe you could use your time here. Make the most of it. You’re only a thousand years young, right? Elle won’t keep you here forever.” She took a deep breath, thinking something through. “Just try to enjoy the journey instead of only longing for the destination.”

Loki considered her advice, finding nothing really wrong with it. “I don’t know how well I will carry that out.”

“All you need to do is try. Or don’t. It’s totally up to you. Just remember one thing?”

“What is that?” he asked, expecting more wise words.

“Elle called to make sure you were okay. She didn’t order you to come back.” Lydia shrugged, meeting his eyes with dark intelligence. “Just something to think about.”

It was. Loki did think about it, realizing she was right. “Thank you for the tea. And the conversation.” He smiled at her, rising and taking their mugs to the sink. “I think I shall return to the apartment now.”

“Have a good night,” Lydia stood and stretched with a grimace. “See you tomorrow?”

“Oh, most likely.” Loki transported back into the dark main room of Eleanore’s apartment. The cat jumped off the couch and make its way around his legs. He considered finding Eleanore, remembering Lydia’s request that she sleep. He turned himself invisible and transported to the Captain’s apartment, where the lights were dim but present. 

She was asleep on the sofa, an arm hanging down, a plate with the remains of something greenish on the floor beside her. Rogers was also slumbering, looking more relaxed than Loki had ever seen him. 

Satisfied that his promises were kept, Loki went back to his own bedroom and settled in to sleep, thinking about Lydia’s words. 

He hadn’t gotten the answers he wanted, but he had learned some things from their visit. Firstly, that he recognized Lydia’s sense of humor from his experiences with Eleanore. They laughed at everything, but especially the dramatic and over-serious. He supposed it was how they coped with the events around them. 

Secondly, Lydia had made some undeniably good points. Loki was a logical man; he prided himself on his ability to step back, reassess, look at things from every angle. His anger had blinded him somewhat these past couple of years, and he had grown used to it. Changed, and not for the better. If he was following Barton’s example, Loki would change his reasoning and behavior back to the person he’d been before his fall. He’d remember experiences and mistakes, learn from them, and move on. Possibly try living in his present situation instead of constantly longing for something impossible and different. 

Because what he truly wanted was impossible, and changed from day to day. He could never go back to being the dutiful prince, but he fell back into the pattern of craving it and the fonder memories of his past that went along with it. He could not rule this planet, as Asgard was watching it and Midgard’s forces could not stand against the Aesir, even if they wanted to. Even with their ‘enhanced’ abilities, a war would result in countless deaths and unnecessary tragedy. His mind brought forth an image of every mortal he’d met piled in a bloody heap, awaiting the burning burial that Asgard’s enemies could expect. Ambition was not worth that, especially when he was sure to fail. 

What he could do was prepare this world for Thanos’ revenge, as he’d planned before. This second scheme, though, gave him much less a leadership role, and more of an advising one. The Captain could lead them, if he could learn to rely on his team. He already listened to others when they knew something he did not. Loki could actually help, advancing the Avengers’ strength until they could actually contend with any force Thanos could send against them. They would not trust him, yet. That burned, the idea of their narrowed eyes, Stark’s doubt, SHIELD’s hesitation to follow his advice. Another reason for the Captain to lead. The man inspired more trust than Loki could ever hope to.

Loki started making a list in his head of the resources he knew to be at Thanos’ disposal. His two ‘daughters’ who were really assassins, the Other with his magical abilities, the Gauntlet itself and the Time and Soul gems. Loki grinned, mentally congratulating himself for stealing the Mind gem away from the Wooer of Death. It was still on Earth, under protection of SHIELD. Loki doubted very much that he would be allowed access to it, but that was for the best. His connection to the Mind gem would give the Other, and therefore Thanos, access to and influence over his thoughts. In fact, he might want to warn the people experimenting on it of its call to the Death Bringer, its potential to control their minds as well. So that gem was still very much under Thanos’ control, just not in his possession. An enticing source of power for the eager mortals to use, a way for them to be used.

He did not know when he would start implementing this plan, or if he ever would. First, he would try adjusting his own perspective, taking a good look at how he now saw things. Making sure he wanted to help the people of Midgard in the first place. Do as Lydia had suggested and try to find a reason to enjoy his life again, even if he chafed under Eleanore’s control. 

He sighed, rolling to his stomach. “…is she that bad? Really?” Loki did not think Eleanore as a person was terrible. She took after her mother, genuinely kind and honest and mentally resolute. It was her power over him that he hated, and that made him resent her. 

But she has not exercised much control of me. Yet. She asked him for help sometimes, but he could count on one hand the times she had actually activated the slavery spell intentionally. She’d silenced him that first night on Midgard to avoid a fight, which he would have caused. She’d also ordered him to help rebuild New York when he’d refused to do it. Stopped him from killing Thor. But nothing in the past few days. Even when she was healing the Captain, Loki had never felt the compulsion to obey. If she continued to refrain from orders, Loki decided he could be slightly less hostile. Or at least he’d try. Debating was still fun, and he wasn’t going to give that up.

That settled, he sighed and closed his eyes, letting the day’s events wash over him in a flood. The early morning, the flight and medical training, the building’s various bombs and dying men. He’d need to start calling his throwing knives back so he wouldn’t waste them. He also wanted to practice with the guns. They were fun to shoot, and the bullets were numerous. Rogers’ injuries flashed behind his eyes, and he cringed, recalling all the blood. A normal mortal would be dead. Then again, a normal mortal would not have gotten into that situation, and he would not have had a mutant woman, a dragon, and an ancient god coming to his rescue either.

Sighing, Loki switched his thoughts to repetitions of spells, rules for casting, different kind of energy. These calmed his mind, and he was able to drift off to sleep.

He woke up to darkness and the sound of someone moving in the kitchen. Loki hadn’t locked the door the night before, so he cautiously opened his door and discovered Eleanore making eggs.

“Morning,” she greeted him, looking a little less tired than the day before. Perhaps she’d had those bad dreams after all. 

“Good morning.” Loki walked around and got two mugs down, pouring himself some coffee. 

“What are you doing? Don’t drink that,” Eleanore said, not ordering but sounding so shocked that Loki’s hand froze on the mug’s handle. 

“Is it poisoned?” he asked, figuring it was meant all for Rogers or some nonsense.

“No, here.” She opened the warming box and pulled the green striped mug out, full of steaming water. She reached into the cupboard above the stove and brought down a box of Bengal Spice tea, plopping one of the bags in the water. “Sugar’s right here.” She pointed vaguely to the container while Loki processed what had just happened.

He finally figured out that his manners still existed. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” she smiled up at him, handing him a spoon. “Want cheese on your eggs?”

“Why not?” He stirred sugar into his tea and smelled its enticing scent. Took a plate and got out of her way as she dished up two more.

“Steve’s better today. Want to come eat over there? Not in the bedroom.” Eleanore tried unsuccessfully to open the door with her hip. 

“Yes,” Loki reached around and held it for her, following her into the next apartment. 

Rogers was sitting on the couch, sketchbook in hand. He brightened when Eleanore entered, and greeted Loki. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I am well.” Loki took a seat at the small counter with his eggs and tea. He took a sip and let the warmth suffuse into his body, reminding him happily of laughter the night before. He looked around the sunny room, with two smiling people who were sharing some joke. Turning to him to see if he was in on it. He grinned back, taking a bite of eggs and noting their happy reactions. Yes, I think I can try.


	19. Recovery

The next two days passed slowly for Steve. Saturday wasn’t so bad because he was still pretty weak and shaky on his own legs. Elle had given him a checkup every couple of hours and decided he was improving slowly. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept well the night before, although he’d woken her up when he made a morning trip to the bathroom. She made Steve drink two bottles of water an hour and eat five meals plus some snacks with nutrients to help replenish his blood. No caffeine, not too much sodium, and not a lot of sugar in his diet to keep his organs in good order. She and Loki only left him alone for about an hour and a half while they went to visit Lydia and Peggy. Steve read the news while they were gone, looking for any signs of terror attacks connected to the cell. There were none.

They returned with favorable reports, and then they watched the  Terminator movies in a marathon late into the night. Loki thought the idea of Skynet was absurd, with all the new mutants coming to light. Eleanore pointed out that the main movies were created before mutants had caught the public eye, so they story just centered around ‘normal’ humans. Steve was reminded of the Red Skull when the Terminator’s skin was burned off. He petted Charlie’s stomach during those scenes. Elle had brought the cat over periodically to be sure he didn’t get lonely by himself in the apartment. Jet was still sleeping off his fighting and flying from the days before, cashed out in Eleanore’s bed.

Sunday tested his patience. He woke up early to find Eleanore asleep on the couch again, so he couldn’t do much besides stay in his bedroom until she woke up. He felt a lot better, and the idea of climbing down his fire escape for a quick run was tempting. He didn’t though, because he’d promised and because Loki could probably wrestle him into going to the hospital if Eleanore told him to. He wasn’t actually that worried about it, but Elle had seemed really worried about him and he didn’t want to stress her out any more. She finally woke up at six, looking well rested, and said Steve was almost back to normal, but to give it another day. He’d been expecting that, and accepted it instead of a hospital visit. He just didn’t like doctors anymore, or trust them. Bruce was the only exception, and Steve would even hesitate to bother him if his injury wasn’t too bad. 

Darren showed up late that morning, bringing his promised video game and two controllers, and Steve spent the better part of the afternoon learning how the commands worked and playing through  Halo . Steve abandoned it after a while and walked around, watching as Darren switched the game to ‘legendary’ mode and took Loki on in a one-on-one battle. He saw the ‘smug look’ Elle had described when Darren beat Loki, but the younger Stark was a good sport when Loki started winning more and more. 

When they were done, Loki suggested a  real sparring match over at the newly renovated gym. Steve and Eleanore went along and watched as the two men faced off, Darren losing time after time. Loki kept instructing him, though, and his technique and speed improved quite a bit as the competition went on. Steve wanted to get in there, but he didn’t even try, knowing that no one would fight him in his current state. Instead, he memorized Loki’s moves and planned counterattacks against them for the next time they fought. 

Eleanore’s phone rang partway through one of the more intense matches, when Loki and Darren were trading hits so fast Steve almost had trouble tracking them. She stood and went upstairs to talk, since it was getting loud in the basement. Steve watched as Loki sped up even more, actually looking a little out of breath. Darren’s jaw was locked, and he had a focused, determined look in his eye that explained why he was lasting so long and making his opponent actually try. He was even guarding his torso, which was his weakest point. His footwork was great, his stance was natural. He’d improved a lot. 

Suddenly, there was a shift in the fight. If Steve hadn’t known the two fighters well, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Darren’s foot started resting just a second too long on the mat, and Loki started hammering him with direct hits, throwing him constantly off balance and gaining an edge. Darren tried to correct himself, but it was too late. While he was distracted with his stance, his arms fell, and Loki landed a palm right in the middle of his chest, sending him sliding over the mat toward the spectators bench and hitting the corner post’s padding hard.

“You okay?” Steve asked, standing and walking over, grabbing a couple towels from the little cart and handing them to the combatants. 

“Yeah,” Darren was grinning as he wiped his face. He held out a hand, and Loki helped him up. “I almost had you!”

“Please,” Loki chuckled, accepting the cloth Steve handed him. “I was humoring you.”

“No, I  just about knocked you over,” Darren insisted. “I’ve been practicing for it.”

“That much is clear. You are not  as slow anymore.” Loki gave a nod to Darren’s accomplishments, summoning three bottles of water through the air and tossing one to Steve. “You still have a long way to go to be a real threat.”

“I need to update my armor,” Darren ignored the jibe, staring up at the ceiling. “It won’t let me move that fast. I want protection, but I don’t want to be slow.”

“Eleanore’s armor is light and quick,” Loki commented. 

“But it can it take a tank round? No.” Darren scoffed affectionately, looking around. “I’d put her in one like mine, if she’d let me. She’s already complaining about how bulky that newest version is. Where’d she go?”

“Phone call,” Steve told him, leaning his arms against the ropes of the ring and taking a drink. There was also a new wrestling or sparring mat installed over in the open area where the punching bags used to be stored, but he and Darren favored the ring because there were flexible barriers to catch them when Loki knocked them across the room. The new punching bags looked tougher, and there were some heavier ones, all placed in a little room with hand tape and extra fighting gloves. “Darren, who do you practice with?”

“Sometimes my dad, but mostly against this robot I designed. I programmed it to mimic the most common moves the whole team makes, and adapt to my motions. It’s not as good as Loki, but it’s something.”

“I would test the machine,” Loki said, reclining against the ropes. 

“Sure.” Darren laughed again, sitting on the ring’s floor. “Just break my sparring partner so I can’t get any better and beat you.”

“If the device is broken, the creator is at fault,” Loki retorted, smirking. He was more talkative lately, and more inclined to make non-harassing jokes. Steve had noticed this, but hadn’t commented on it, not wanting to dispel the man’s good mood, especially when it lasted two days. Whatever his reason for it, Steve trusted him a lot more for saving his life. Loki had pulled him out of the building, but he didn’t have to help heal him. There’d been disgust and aversion in his eyes at some points of the process, but he’d stuck it out even so. He’d given Steve a shirt, set out clothes for Eleanore to change into. Clint had even acted friendlier toward him. Steve couldn’t figure out an ulterior motive, other than tricking them into a false sense of security, but he also didn’t want to. He wanted this to work.

“You guys hungry?” Darren asked, jarring Steve from his contemplation. Darren was almost always hungry, no matter when he’d last eaten or how much. Steve remembered his mother saying Bucky stored food in his legs as he grew taller, and he thought she’d say the same thing about the younger Stark.

Still, Steve was almost always willing to eat. “What do you have in mind?”

“Anything sound good to you guys?” Darren asked. Steve shrugged, and Loki inclined his head noncommittally. “I know this Chinese place that’s really good.”

“Lead the way.” Steve had his wallet with him, and he was going to pay the bill this time. 

“You okay to walk?” Darren asked as they headed up the stairs. “It’s about three blocks further down the street.”

“I’m fine.” Steve was actually feeling almost out of breath from climbing the stairs, his heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon, but he wasn’t going to admit to it. He could walk three blocks, damn it.

“M’kay,” Darren said distractedly, looking around the entryway. Eleanore was nowhere in sight. “Did you say she came up here?”

“Yeah, I saw her go up the stairs.” Steve would have noticed if she came back down.

“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” Darren said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text— oh wait, she texted me.” He opened it, his hand blocking the screen. “Oh, she’s gone.”

“Gone?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Her dad came to town and they’re going out to dinner. He does this.” Darren shrugged it off. “Anyway, we can head out.”

“Her dad?” Steve hadn’t even thought about Eleanore having a dad. Thinking back, she’d mentioned him once and said her parents were divorced and he ‘wasn’t around’.

“He drops in every few months,” Darren explained, leading the way out he door and down the street. “He stays in a hotel overnight, and they go out to dinner and hang out, maybe have coffee the next morning.” He lifted one shoulder and dropped it, “He probably remembered that Elle graduated or something.”

“Oh.” Steve tried not to be too curious about that comment. He’d always wanted to meet his own father, but he knew lots of kids who would have been glad to be rid of theirs. He caught himself mid-stumble, having lost track on his feet, and his focus shifted elsewhere.

“You sure you’re okay?” Darren asked. “I can get my car.”

“I’m sure,” Steve assured him. “We’re almost there, anyway.” They’d gone two blocks, all walking quickly through the pedestrian traffic on a Friday night. Steve could see groups and couples and solitary people all out enjoying the nice weather. Bars were opening their doors for the five o’clock hour, and cars were lining up down the street for good parking spots. The trees lining the sidewalk were blooming with white flowers that smelled amazing. 

“Here it is,” Darren led them into a little restaurant, another buffet, situated between a convenience store and a place called  Cocolatte . It sounded like a coffee shop, but the people waiting in line outside it looked dressed for modern dancing. It was probably a club.

Inside, the owner didn’t seem to know Darren, seating the three men quickly and without a comment. He brought them empty glasses, which they filled at a soda fountain in the corner. Then they went through the buffet. Steve chose to be adventurous, putting a little bit of everything on his plate. When he got back to the table, Darren was already digging into his first stack of food, which was a mishmash of noodles, mushrooms, and shrimp. Loki arrived a moment later with a salad, shrugging at the other two when they looked at him curiously.

“I like fresh vegetables,” he said, digging into the lettuce with no dressing. 

Steve started on his own samples, immediately disliking the crab rangoon. 

“You dip those in sweet-and-sour sauce,” Darren informed him. “But I don’t like them either.” 

Next Steve tried the shrimp and found them good. So were the brown noodles Darren had had. The broccoli was less cooked than Steve was used to, but it had a good flavor. The fried rice was great. Everything tasted salty after his day of avoiding sodium, and he went slowly, monitoring himself for any adverse reactions. When he went back for seconds, he got some soup and watermelon to try to nullify some of the stuff he’d eaten. Unfortunately, the soup was salty too, but it was so good Steve finished it anyway. Then he got some more brown noodles and tried the mushrooms on some more fried rice. 

“I am not familiar with this culture,” Loki commented halfway through his third plate. He had tried other things, but he’d gone back to the salad. 

“You visited Europe, so I don’t suppose you would be,” Darren said. “China’s halfway across the globe from Scandinavian countries.”

“I was never in that part of the world either,” Steve added. “Hydra was spread across Europe, but it didn’t get to Japan.”

“We should have sushi sometime,” Darren said excitedly. “It’s Japanese. Don’t listen to Elle describe it, or you won’t want it.”

“What is it?” Loki asked, frowning. 

“It’s raw fish rolled into rice and wrapped in seaweed. No, see? You have to try it before you think it’s gross.” Darren held up his hands as Steve and Loki both wrinkled their noses.

“I will judge when I please,” Loki responded. “That sounds like an excellent way to poison yourself.”

“I’ll try it,” Steve said when Darren looked crestfallen. “After I’m fully recovered,” he added, when the younger man brightened up. It did sound like poison.

“Sure, I’ll bring some over. If you don’t eat it, I will.”

After that, Darren concentrated on eating his way through six plates full of food, and Steve and Loki both slowed down as they got full. When it looked like Darren was almost done, Steve got up and went to the counter to pay. It wasn’t bad, for as much food as they’d eaten. 

The walk back to the apartment building seemed long. Six blocks, it turned out, was actually an issue for his tired legs. Steve couldn’t believe how weak he still was, trying to control the shaking of his joints with every step. The stairs nearly got him, and he forced himself to the top, breathing hard, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He felt like his old body had come back, with all its ailments and frailties. He wondered, in a moment of mental panic, whether the stuff they’d injected him with was negating the serum. Disregarded it as he unlocked his door. He was recovering, it just took time. 

“Here,” Darren pulled a throw pillow off the couch. “Sit.”

“Before you collapse,” Loki added, walking slowly at Steve’s elbow. 

“M’ fine,” Steve muttered, sitting as he was told, feeling tired and frustrated. 

“Tell that to your reflection,” Loki pulled a mirror from thin air and held it in front of him. Steve saw a pale, gaunt version of himself staring back with startlingly bright blue eyes. 

He just sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I get it.”

“You just need some time,” Darren said, handing him a bottle of blue Gatorade from the supply Steve kept in his refrigerator. “You actually lost six and a half pints of blood. That’s half your supply. It’s amazing you survived.”

“Feels amazing,” Steve deadpanned, gulping down the Gatorade. 

“I’m sure.” Darren chuckled and stood, looking around. “I brought an extra controller that’s in my car. Want to play  Mario Cart ?”

“Sure.” Steve looked at Loki, who nodded. “What is it?”

It turned out to be a very fun, addicting game. Steve could actually beat Darren and Loki at this one, quickly learning what each extra item did and how to use them. The other two men sat on the floor, closer to the television, but Steve stayed on the couch and tried not to move too much. Darren was Bowser, and Loki was Luigi. Steve switched between Yoshi and Princess Peach, enjoying the reactions he got when he dropped a banana or a blue shell. He got knocked of the track plenty of times himself, grousing each time and getting revenge every chance he got. 

Darren had the advantage the first couple of races, and he didn’t go easy on them at all. He blue-shelled Steve three separate times and rammed Loki off the track, chortling the whole time. Then Steve and Loki ganged up on him, and he couldn’t get an item to save his life. They exacted revenge for one race, and then focused on winning for themselves.

Loki concentrated on the screen with unwavering intensity, and when he got knocked off the course, he drew in a deep breath and glared at whoever did it until his character came back. It made Steve and Darren laugh every time, and eventually Loki would grin or roll his eyes and hit them with a bomb or something. “Fear my wrath, mortals.” 

They got louder and more involved as time wore on. Darren yelled whenever he got a hit in on someone, Steve lost his cool and groaned “Nooooo” when he’d get knocked over. Loki even let out a “Ha!” when he won by the skin of his teeth. It was hard to focus on the correct screen, so Steve often found himself repeatedly driving off cliffs, staring at someone else’s car. Darren did the same thing, shaking himself every time, growling engine noises “…to make the car go faster.” They played until they’d mastered every track, except Rainbow Road. Everyone fell off that one all the time without any help.

The door to Steve’s apartment opened in the middle of a race, and Steve only glanced up to see Romanov entering with a basket of fruit. 

“Don’t get up,” she said when he set aside his controller. “I’m just here to see how you’re recovering.”

“Recover this!” Darren blue-shelled Loki, earning a hiss and a grumble of “Insolent half-breed.”

“Looks like you’re doing well,” Natasha commented, seating herself on the arm of the empty easy chair. “What’s Elle say?”

“Rest, relax. No activity for a while.” Steve had to agree with her after his experience that night. He couldn’t go back in the field if he was going to be a risk to his team, and he couldn’t even walk six blocks.

“Sounds about right. You look terrible,” Natasha smirked.

Steve scoffed, “Darren says I’m amazing.”

“Huh?” Darren asked, not really listening. Loki was sneaking up on his tail, and he was trying to block him from passing and beat him to the next set of crates.

“That’s sweet,” Romanov stood and sighed. “Well, I’m heading out of DC for a while. Clint’s out, too.” She headed for the door. “We’ll let you know when we get back.”

“Stay safe,” Steve waved as she left. He sat back, trying to relax his muscles and watching the races continue in front of him. His heart still beat faster than he was used to, about ninety to one hundred beats per minute. Memories of his old body were playing behind his eyes, and he let them because a lot of them were still good. Before they war, Steve hadn’t thought as much about the frailty of his limbs, since Bucky always kept pace with him. They’d searched for girls and jobs in old Brooklyn, Bucky finding a managerial position in a factory, Steve designing posters after he went to art school. They didn’t have a lot, but they’d had fun.

The door opened again, admitting Eleanore. Steve did a double-take as she stopped, holding Charlie and letting Jet follow her inside. She looked more stressed than she had on Asgard when she’d fought with Odin, almost shaking, her shoulders rising toward her ears, taking shallow breaths and looking around with large eyes. 

“Hey,” she greeted them with a forced grin, then frowned and looked Steve over. “What did you do?”

“Ate Chinese and walked home,” Darren supplied, leaning side to side as he tried to keep his car on the track.

“Chinese.” Eleanore moved into the kitchen and filled one of the plastic tumblers with water. “Drink this,” she ordered, concern adding to the tension in her body language.

“I’m really fine,” Steve said, accepting the water and the cat. 

“Hush,” Eleanore replied, taking his pulse. When she was done, she bit her lip and put a hand on his heart, silver light playing over his red t-shirt. Steve didn’t feel any healing, only the warmth of her palm. “Did you experience any shortness of breath? Heart racing? Cold sweat? Anything else?”

“Just the first two,” he said honestly. She’d be able to tell about his heart by his pulse, anyway.

“Chug that water.” She waited while he did that, then refilled it from the air. “Stay sitting for a while,” she instructed him, getting up and going back into his kitchen. She returned with a banana. “Potassium helps counter your sodium intake.”

“Sure you’re not a doctor?” Steve joked, peeling the fruit and taking a bite.

“I’ve been looking up ways to prevent organ failure in people who’ve lost too much blood.” Eleanore was somber, taking Charlie back and moving to sit in the armchair. She frowned and watched the game on the television. Darren and Loki had switched back to Halo, and were running around and building things in an open, peaceful valley. When they were done with that, they attacked each other’s bases. “Darren, low sodium means no restaurants.”

“Sorry,” Darren shrugged over his shoulder at her. “I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s my own fault,” Steve said, unwilling to let the other man take the blame. “I knew there was too much salt in the food, and I ate it anyway. Quite a bit of it. And I pushed myself too far, activity-wise.” He felt pretty bad for making her worry more. He didn’t know she’d been so anxious about it, but he should have guessed. She’d really wanted him to see a doctor. And apparently having supper with her father also raised her stress levels more than a battle did. “Sorry.”

Elle looked at him a moment, then sighed. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. How’re you feeling now?”

“Better.” Steve finished the banana and took a long drink of water. “How was dinner?”

“It was fine. Darren, he wants to have coffee with us in the morning.” She looked exhausted at that thought, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Coffee? Okay.” Darren looked over at her, then stood and gave his controller to Steve. He walked over and slid into the seat next to Eleanore, putting his arm around her. They were both thin, but it was still a tight fit. “Hey kitty kitty.”

That made Eleanore smile. Steve wondered what it was about the supper that had made her so intense. Was her relationship with her dad really that strained? Had something else happened? It was none of his business, but he was curious. He lost to Loki over and over again as he turned possibilities over in his mind. When he got tired of it, though, he hid an energy sword in his armaments and snuck up on the demigod’s armored figure, running him through.

“You guys look like you’re having fun,” Elle commented, yawning. “I’m going to bed. Early day tomorrow. You should drink two more tumblers of water before bed, Steve. And come get me if you feel anything off.”

“OK, goodnight.” Steve got a distracted wave as she left, taking the cat and dragon with her. Darren followed a second later, leaving Steve and Loki to virtually destroy each other. They played on the same map for another fifteen minutes before they killed each other at the same time and set their remotes aside.

“Good match,” Loki said, stretching and standing up. 

“Thanks. You too.” Steve gestured to the technology in front of them, “I didn’t know video games would be this much fun.”

“I have never played such simulations before,” Loki got himself a glass of water and drank it. “Asgard favors physical competition.”

“Makes sense,” Steve got up and refilled his own cup, following Loki back to the living room and sitting back on the couch while the demigod took the single chair. “So no magical training aids like that robot Darren made?”

“No,” Loki frowned. “No magic is allowed on the training grounds. Not that I always respected that rule.” He looked dejected, lost in thought.

“Do not many people use magic there?” Steve tried again, treading lightly. He was still confused about Elle’s strange behavior, and he didn’t want to cause Loki to push her further. 

“No, it is a peculiar art.” Loki held out his hand and conjured a knife, one of his old ones, turning back and forth and staring at its lines. “Asgard has weapons of mass destruction that dwarf Midgard’s, you know. The Tesseract is now in a vault, sealed with many other ancient powers considered too dangerous to actually use in battle. They are magical, and not many understand their inner workings. Some are not available for study, and none but the Allfather knows what function they serve. Individual magic is considered similarly unruly, and it is not encouraged in favor of real strength and prowess. It also requires a certain amount of talent and study, and many think their time is better spent elsewhere.” He spoke informationally, his tone quiet and eloquent. Different from how Elle explained things. His voice told a story that Steve could see playing out in his mind’s eye. A young, dark-haired boy, weaker than his older brother, finding something he was  really good at. Being told that thing was dishonorable. Learning it anyway, in spite of the disapproval. Being pushed toward ‘real’ skills, in spite of his passion for studying what was real to him. 

It was a lot to assume from a short explanation, but Steve knew it was all true. It was also the longest speech he’d heard Loki make since Stuttgart and the helicarrier. He chose his next words with care. “I think magic is a real strength.”

“It is certainly more acceptable here,” Loki pulled himself back into his normal, distant attitude. He tossed his knife in the air and caught it absentmindedly. “But muscles seem to be more important than brains on this realm as well.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted readily. “That hasn’t changed in seventy years. If anything, it’s gotten worse.” It was his turn to share. ‘Reciprocity,’ Elle called it. “Back in the forties, kids dreamed of going to college. Getting a desk job, staying out of factories. My mom was so proud when I got into art school, back before I was… like this. A lot of people weren’t that lucky, though. But the War did start the economy up again, so I hear, so maybe education just wasn’t as big of a deal.”

“Midgard’s education is very limited,” Loki commented, holding his chin in his hand and running a finger over his lips. “Your short life spans severely stunt your capacity for knowledge.” He looked at Steve, and there was something in his eyes that caught his heart. Like he expected a retaliation for that thought. 

“Maybe,” Steve wouldn’t go that far. There were still geniuses. Darren, Tony, Bruce. Coulson had mentioned someone called ‘Stephen Hawking.’ Darren cited Nikola Tesla a lot, saying he was an inspiration and that Edison was just good at marketing and being a jerk. He wasn’t insulted by Loki’s perception. “We learn from each other, though. And we still get a lot done with the years we have.”

“Perhaps…” Loki was thinking again. “Perhaps your feeling of constant mortality pushes you to accomplish more.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, honestly considering it. This was the best discussion he’d ever had with Loki. What had changed his attitude? “What’s it like to live as long as you have?”

“Normal,” Loki replied with a grin. “You humans truly seem like insects, with your fleeting impressions.”

Steve didn’t take offense, returning the grin and sitting back. “I suppose we would.”

“But your world has changed much more than Asgard has these past thousand years,” Loki continued. “Your lives are responsible for that, I think. Advancements are possible when one does not cling too hard to the old ways. Or when those who do eventually die.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Steve agreed. “It’s also nice not to think about polio or tuberculosis as constant threats.”

“How many diseases does your kind suffer from?” Loki asked incredulously. “It’s a miracle you have such a massive population.”

“There’s still a lot of illnesses,” Steve thought seriously. “But Asgardians probably don’t reproduce as fast as we do. Longer lives, less need.”

“Most families have one to two children,” Loki informed him. “But yes, the need for expansion is not a pressing one.”

“I guess having two sons was kind of insurance for the royal family,” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Do women get to rule?”

Loki’s face went blank, and he regarded Steve carefully. “A woman never has. In times of war, when the Allfather is away, the Queen does make official decisions with the traditional advisers, but the King is consulted for important ones.”

“That’s not really fair,” Steve frowned, letting the topic steer away from the royal children. He remembered Loki was adopted, and that was probably a touchy subject, considering he’d tried to eliminate a realm after he found out. “What if the king dies? And there’s no sons or anything? What then?”

“That has not happened, either. Not in recorded history.” Loki was withdrawing from the conversation, turning his eyes away. “If it were to occur, I am certain that Asgard’s current Queen is more than capable of holding the throne. However, if there is a son at all, he is crowned almost immediately, no matter his age. It happened in my lifetime, on another realm. The ruler died unexpectedly, and his twelve year-old son took his place.”

“That’s a lot to place on a kid,” Steve thought about himself at twelve, running around with Bucky, getting into fights and trouble. Puberty was scary enough without being responsible for a ‘realm’.

“The advisers and the queen helped greatly in that case,” Loki assured him. “Midgard has similar monarchies, do they not? If the realm is at peace, as Svartalfheim was, then the young ruler has plenty of time to learn about his new kingdom.”

“It just seems strange not to let the queen rule alone,” Steve shrugged. “Women are good leaders too.” 

“Better in some cases,” Loki agreed quietly. Steve wondered if he was thinking about his mother, who was so much quieter and more considerate than Odin. “But those are the traditions. I do not presume to change anything with my limited influence.”

“Your mom seems like a good queen,” Steve tried, thinking to draw him back out. 

“Frigga Allmother is not my mother,” Loki said coldly. “Lady Eleanore said that Thor told you the circumstances of my parentage.”

“Only that you’re adopted. It’s not a big deal here,” Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I don’t know what it’s like there.”

“You do not,” Loki agreed. “Suffice to say I was never destined for the throne myself. Not adequate insurance as a son.”

“Huh.” Steve noticed the hour, around midnight. He wasn’t too tired, but he wondered if Loki wanted to keep talking. “My dad died before I was born. My mom was a nurse, raised me by herself.”

“Your father was a soldier?” Loki asked. 

“Yeah. You read that in a file somewhere?” 

“I merely deduced it. You could have followed in your mother’s footsteps to become a healer, but you chose a life of violence instead. You do not enjoy killing, so there must have been some other determining factor.”

“I couldn’t have afforded college to be a doctor,” Steve shook his head. “But I always wanted to be a soldier and protect people.”

“So instead you avoid doctors,” Loki smirked at him. “Though I will admit Eleanore is more effective. But more forceful as well.”

“She worries about the whole team,” Steve rolled his eyes at Loki’s obvious jab. “You know that. And I don’t avoid doctors, I just don’t go without a cause.”

“You are a terrible liar, Captain Rogers.” Loki actually laughed at something Steve didn’t understand. “But speaking of the Lady, and your healing, I should let you rest. It would not do to reverse her efforts with you.” He stood and took his glass to the sink. Steve held the door for him and then locked it, gulping down another entire tumbler of water and taking the glass to bed with him.

That was almost friendly , he thought, reviewing the discussion with Loki. It was practically unbelievable. The demigod hadn’t lost his temper once, and he’d even volunteered information about himself.  What the hell happened? Did I miss something while I was knocked out?

He wanted to believe it was real, that it wasn’t just an act to get Loki freed more quickly. He hadn’t hesitated to save Steve, but the spell would have compelled him to either way. But he’d acted different ever since then, too, the behavior spread out over days. It wasn’t like his acting that last morning they’d gone to clear the streets of New York, when Loki couldn’t keep sarcasm out of his tone. Steve didn’t think he was as good of an actor as Thor said, since he had so much trouble hiding his emotions. As Steve got to know him more, Loki was easier and easier to read. And he’d seemed almost relieved to spar and mess around with Darren, like it was something he missed. He’d been held prisoner for two years, Steve recalled. Camaraderie probably wasn’t in good supply in that situation. And he’d controlled the people around him on Earth, until the Avengers finally defeated him. Maybe friendship was what he secretly craved. 

Steve was willing to bet any mention of these suspicions would send Loki right back into his shell, where he’d look out at everyone with self-satisfied coolness. There was already hints of that whenever the conversation moved to a risky subject. But when he felt comfortable, in control, Loki would answer questions directed at him and keep the exchange going. He  liked debating, Steve had seen when he’d poked fun at Elle and Darren’s political views. He also liked bouncing his ideas off people, seeing if they stuck. He’d seemed unused to it, too. When he’d said something that could be considered offensive, Loki had watched him carefully. Every time Steve accepted his ideas, he’d opened up a bit more.

Isn’t that the same for everyone? Steve remembered being ridiculed for ‘stupid questions’ and wrong answers by a particularly severe teacher. How it had made him hesitate before he raised his hand. How glad he was when Bucky would say the same thing after class. Loki probably hadn’t had anyone that close. Best friends like Bucky were one in a billion, and Thor was so different, even for a brother. If magic itself wasn’t discouraged, then Loki had spent two hundred years with his mind filled with ideas no one else shared. No wonder he’d stuck with the conversation, even when he’d felt uncomfortable. 

Steve felt satisfied that he’d actually done something to help with Loki’s recovery. He felt like his day hadn’t been wasted on a weak body recovering from a stupid mistake. Elle had said negative emotions would make him heal slower, so this glimpse of positivity was probably for the best.

He sighed, feeling exhausted despite his relatively uneventful day. The best part about being injured was that he could sleep every night, so far for five or more hours at a time. The bad part was that he slept more deeply, so nightmares held him under like torturous hands holding his head in a tank of water. Often, the more terrifying dreams featured water in some way. Steve made a note to write that in his journal to be shared with Eleanore the next time they talked about it. At any rate, he could feel his eyelids sinking closed. He let himself go, knowing his body needed the rest more than his mind.


	20. EMS

When he woke in the morning, it was to the sound of the apartment door closing and two sets of footsteps crossing to the Captain’s door before making their way down the stairs. The silent apartment was extremely conducive to eavesdropping, although Darren had put a silencing spell over Eleanore’s bedroom the night before. Loki could not find fault with that, since he had no desire to hear  any  noises they might make in the wee hours.

He rose, deciding a shower was in order for his rare solitary stretch of time. He collected a set of underclothes and a green long sleeved shirt with buttons on it. black trousers and black shoes completed his earthly ensemble. On his way to the bathroom, he stopped to pet the trilling cat, who followed him in as he closed the door. He set it outside, feeling strange about soulful green eyes watching him disrobe. He put the clothes on the counter and turned on the water, waiting for the warm steam to start circulating in the enclosed space. There was a fan, whose switch sat beside the lights, but Loki did not like having it on because it limited his perceptions. It was very loud. And without it, he could still hear everything that went on in the apartment and the hallway.

Like the quiet  snick of the Captain’s door opening and closing. Loki frowned down at his unclothed body and sent a magical tracker to keep the man’s location in his awareness. Likely, he was sneaking out to exercise alone, which Eleanore would forbid. Loki was not in the mood or attire to stop him. He also added a judgment to the spell that would alert him if the Captain’s mood changed to anything like tension or panic. Satisfied with his protection, Loki entered the shower and spent time washing himself to feel refreshed and fully clean.

His spell did not alert him until he was drying himself off with ‘his’ towel — a coarse, white thing that left much to be desired when compared to Asgard’s drying cloths. He froze in the middle of brushing the material over his dripping hair, feeling real panic evolving distantly, detached from Loki’s own feelings. He’d based the spell on how he’d sensed Eleanore’s affects treated his own consciousness. It was not exact, but it was enough to make him straighten, pause his breathing, locate the man. He was in the basement of the gym. Loki called the clothes onto his body and pulled himself through space, appearing in the dim room next to the sparring ring with the barest stirring of air. He looked around, not catching sight of his charge.

“Rogers,” Loki said, keeping his voice at a normal volume. He heard short gasps from the other side of the platform and followed them, finding a hanging punching bag and Captain America crumpled to the floor, unconscious. 

He was breathing, that much was obvious. He was also sweating profusely and his lips were blue.  Blue?  Yes, blue, and turning bluer. Loki felt the man’s forehead as he’d seen Eleanore do (as his not-mother had done since he was a boy) and found a cool, clammy, but not Jotun temperature. So this was likely a serious reaction to exercising without all of his blood. He’d been barely strong enough to walk short distances yesterday, only his will pushing him up the apartment stairs. He was a fool for attempting such straining activity without consulting his healer. But then, Eleanore had said he could try light activity today. Loki had heard the implied  supervised , but apparently Rogers had ignored it. Another reason he was a fool. Eleanore had informed Loki in the car on their way from visiting Lydia that Rogers would likely take three more days to fully replenish his blood supply, if not more. She’d also wished the Captain would go to a doctor to get some of their spare blood.

Loki couldn’t take Rogers to a hospital. Not only did he not know where one was, but transporting the man would almost definitely worsen his already serious condition. And he wasn’t waking up or improving, his lips just as blue, his breathing shallow and rapid. Loki checked his pulse and barely found it, beating wildly and soft, like a bird. 

Were there not emergency services on this planet? Loki knew there were. He’d seen them himself on the streets of New York and in this city as well. But how did one get them to show up? 

A phone call, you idiot. Loki pulled his phone from storage and opened its screen. He knew how to make calls on it, but he didn’t know what combination of numbers would bring one of the white, boxy vehicles blaring down the street. 

He opened the  Contacts list and heard a familiar voice.  “Hello Master Loki. May I be of service today?”

Jarvis. Perfect. “I need medical services here immediately. Captain Rogers is collapsed.” Loki hoped the ethereal being could make the vehicles hurry.

“I have contacted the proper authorities and an ambulance is dispatched. Estimated arrival time five minutes.”  Loki sighed in relief. He could keep Rogers alive that long. Probably.  “In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of looking up first responders treatments for hypovolemic shock. Please elevate Captain Rogers’ feet twelve inches from the ground, after lying him flat on his back. ” 

Loki followed the instructions, guessing at the dimensions. Rogers’ head rolled to the side, his face completely slack.  Stupid, arrogant man.  Loki noticed his lips regaining some normal color.

“Next, please keep the patient warm.”

Loki pulled a cloak from his store, placing it over the unconscious man. Rogers had sweat through his shirt, and his skin prickled with the coldness of the cement floor. “Any more instructions for me?”

“That is the extent of the first aid. I would advise monitoring the Captain’s heart, if you are not already doing so.”

Loki liked this machine’s deferential tone. He checked the pulse again and found it the same as before. His lips were normal flesh tones again. So at least the situation was not becoming more dire.

“The ambulance has arrived. Paramedics are entering the building. ” 

Yellow-coated men carrying a light gurney rushed into the room. Loki waved them over, still holding Rogers’ feet up, and explained the situation to them.

“So this guy’s lost a lot of blood? From what?” one of the paramedics, whose jacket read  Spencer Cross,  asked.

“Wounds sustained days ago. He is still recovering. He works for SHIELD.” Loki didn’t know whether or not that explanation would carry with the mortals, but it was all he had. Eleanore had told him Rogers’ mission was secret from the public.

“And he hasn’t been to a doctor for it?” the other paramedic asked suspiciously. His name was  Cory Read . 

“He is stubborn.”  That was the full truth, damn the man.

Rogers was lifted and strapped onto the wheeled bed, which the men then carried skillfully up the stairs and into the back of the ambulance. 

“Are you riding with?” Cross asked as Read climbed into the drivers seat. 

Loki only hesitated a moment before clambering into the vehicle and settling on the bench seat out of the healer’s way.

“You can talk to him. He can probably hear you,” Cross told him. 

“Anything I have to say would fall into the realm of anger, for him getting me into this situation.” Loki was only half joking. 

Cross surveyed him and offered a small grin. “They’ll get him fixed up at the hospital. Saint Mary’s is good for emergencies. They’ve saved ones worse than him.” The paramedic worked as he spoke, running a tube into Rogers’ nose, lifting his hand and hanging a bag full of clear liquid from the ceiling as the vehicle jolted around. Loki reached out as the Captain threatened to fall off the bed, straining the straps that held him in. “Thanks. He’ll stay put, though.”

“What are you doing?” Loki asked as Cross fitted a needle into the end of a tube. The contraption was an IV, like Lydia had had. He pressed on the Captain’s hand until veins popped out, then stuck the needle into one. The bandages Rogers wore to protect his hands were still in place, dirty and white.

“Starting a saline drip for hydration. When we get him to the hospital, they’ll start him on whole blood. Unless you know his blood type?” Cross asked hopefully.

“It might be common knowledge,” Loki said, frowning, “but I do not know it.”

“Why would it be common knowledge? Is this guy famous?” Cross looked down at the decidedly flopping, pale, gray features of his country’s hero.

“His name is Steven Rogers,” Loki began, figuring it would be strange to skip the man’s actual identity. “But you may know him as—”

“Captain fucking  America ?” Cross screeched, his voice going so high and quiet at the same time he almost sounded like a woman. “Jesus Christ, what happened to him? Did the aliens hurt him?” He whispered, looking around for invisible enemies.

“No, it was humans,” Loki thought that much was disclosable. 

“Was he saving people?” Even in his excitement, the man was doing his work, filling a needled vial with more clear liquid that Loki assumed was different from that in the IV. He stuck it indiscriminately in Rogers’ upper arm and plunged the stick until there were only drops left.

“Trying to.” They hadn’t heard of any attacks, so perhaps the leader had only escaped. Or perhaps he really had been dealt with. No one told Loki anything, or Eleanore for that matter. He’d bring it up.

“Who are you, then? An Avenger?”

“Perhaps. My status is not solidified as yet.” Loki knew Eleanore and Rogers would be quick to claim him. Darren, too. But the other half of their team had understandable doubts that Loki was still planning to overcome. That was, if his charges could stop getting into trouble every few days. Honestly, these Midgardians were like children. 

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” Cross stuck his hand across Rogers’ body as the ambulance slowed. “Spencer Cross.”

“I read your jacket,” Loki said, returning the gesture quickly, realizing he still had his cell phone. He decided to hold onto it. “I am Loki.”

The vehicle stopped then, and the back doors opened almost immediately to an array of blue-clad fluttering people. Loki jumped out and followed as they wheeled Rogers into the large building with the word  Emergency lit up over the entrance.

“Sir, please wait over there. We’ll ask you some questions after we get him stabilized.” A bright-eyed young woman directed Loki to a set of chairs on the far edge of the room. He went and sat there until she came over a few moments later. “Are you his friend?”

Loki went with the simplest answer, knowing no one would hear it. “Yes.”

“Could you help me fill out this paperwork? I need his name, cause of injury…”

“Loki?” Eleanore called across the floor, running up to him. “Are you okay? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

“He’s with the doctors, ma’am,” the young woman said. Her name tag shone with the words  Nancy Evans . She looked a little older than Eleanore, with blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a bun. “I’m just getting his information filled out.”

“He hates doctors,” Eleanore said, out of breath. “Is he awake? Is he freaking out?”

“No, he is unconscious,” Loki said, standing again and taking the pen and paper from the nurse and giving them to his other, illogical charge. “She wants his information. You know it better than I.”

Eleanore calmed down with something to focus on, as Loki had hoped she would. She filled out Rogers’ name, age ( only a quarter century? ), medical conditions (none), allergies (none), and then turned back to Loki with large brown eyes. “How’s he hurt?”

“I’ll fill that out, if you tell me,” the Nurse Evans said, taking the paper and pen back. 

“He lost a great deal of blood,” Loki began. “It was three days ago. His outer injuries are healed, but he was recovering from the blood loss. This morning, he went to the gym and tried to exercise. I found him unconscious on the floor. I think it is hypovolemic shock that he suffers from.”

“Excellent, thank you.” The nurse wrote everything down in short bursts. “Do either of you happen to know his blood type?” 

“O,” Eleanore said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “Yeah, O positive.”

“That’s great. Thanks for everything. I’ll go get this info to the doctors. Feel free to wait here, and we’ll come out and tell you when you can come see him.” Nurse Evans left with a comforting, confident smile.

“Was he really exercising?” Eleanore asked, once she left.

“Punching, to be exact.” Loki looked down at her. “How did you get here so quickly?”

“Jarvis called me when the ambulance was on their way. Told me what hospital they’d go to. I made a twenty minute drive in ten, but I didn’t run any red lights. And no cops pulled me over. So it’s kind of a neutral day.” She sank into a chair and put her head in her hands, then stood up again immediately. “But are you really okay? Did you use your cell phone? What did the paramedics say? Is that how you got here? Did you ride with them? Did you tell them who he was? What were his symptoms? Was he breathing? What was his heart rate?”

“Eleanore,” Loki said, interrupting her flow of questions, using her given name to get her attention. They were the only two people in the seating area, some doctors and nurses walking by far across the room. He waited until she’d caught her breath and looked up at him with clear focus. “Which answer would be most important to you?”

“I don’t remember all the questions, now.” She sighed, sitting down again and remaining there. She hooked the straps of her purse over her knee. “Sorry. I’ve had a  lot of caffeine today. Too much.”

Loki sat beside her, mentally running through the series of events and allowing some amusement to enter his thoughts about the mortal intoxicant. It never affected him in the coffee she made. “Perhaps the entire story would satisfy your curiosity.”

“It would. Thanks.” Eleanore settled back in her seat, then pulled out her phone and texted a quick message to Darren.  “Steve’s alive. Hypovolemic shock. Loki got him to the hospital. Thanks so much. Love you. ” “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready to listen.”

Loki told her everything, including his allowing Rogers to leave and suspecting his intent. If she was going to get angry about his negligence, he wanted it over with. Eleanore didn’t even blink, though, when he said he’d waited until the spell had informed him of a problem. She paid attention and raised her eyebrows when Loki described the ambulance ride with the talkative Cross. That was the end of it, until she arrived. 

“Thanks for being there,” Eleanore said when he was done speaking.

“I had to be. If either of you die, then I do as well.” Loki brushed off her gratitude, thinking she should save it for if he ever actually did something nice. The way Rogers was acting, he wanted to die. Loki had done him a disservice by saving his life. Although he supposed he did not want to be someone who let people end. So that was a piece of the puzzle solved.

“Are you hungry?” was her next query. “I bet there’s a cafeteria somewhere here.”

“I became acquainted with those rations when I was aboard that flying prison,” Loki said. “I will survive better without them. Has Darren gone back to New York?” He changed the subject in case she started worrying about his food intake as she now did with Rogers. He was also a little curious.

“He’s seeing my dad off. Probably heading out by now. I don’t know if he’ll come here or head back to New York.” Her phone vibrated and she held up a message from her lover.  “Glad he’s okay. Your dad might call. Didn’t buy the emergency because I didn’t go with. Tony and Bruce are testing a HulkBusting armor in NY, so I’m heading there. Let me know if you need anything. Love you.”  She replied,  “We’re okay. Waiting here. Drive safe and say hi to everyone for me.” Loki was relieved when she did not express her affection again. The young couple did it far too much for his taste.

“There is your answer,” he said, wondering if she would be annoyed at his reading over her shoulder. 

“Yep,” she put the device away and tapped her leg on the floor in a nervous, energetic rhythm. “How long do you think they’ll make us wait? What did Steve look like when you found him?”

“I do not know, and he had blue lips.” Loki eyed her for a reaction, and she met his gaze with concern. “Your Jarvis gave me instructions to alleviate some of the danger. Raising his feet, keeping him warm. So on.” 

“How did you keep him warm?” Eleanore wondered aloud.

“I summoned a cloak. Covered him with it. The floor was cold, though, so I do not know how much good it did him.” His cloak was probably gone for good. It had been a nice one, too, warm and dark gray with a gold clasp.

“Still, that was great.” Eleanore looked across the room as she complimented. Loki speculated that she did so to avoid his rolling eyes. “So how do they teach first aid… up there?”

“Do you mean Valhalla?” Loki teased, chuckling at her annoyance. “I am hardly a righteous departed warrior. And they do not need medical treatment, anyway.”

“But stubborn, aggravating princes  might ,” Eleanore said, smiling past the threat in her tone. “Or they might get told to go to the other place.”

“Hel? I’m shocked, Lady Eleanore. Proper young women do not speak in that manner.”

“You call it hell? Really?” she cocked her head, “Huh. And I never claimed to be a proper young lady. I’ve disappointed my grandmother in that regard.”

“Perhaps the deceased forgive the living,” Loki smiled at the thought of the old woman who gave her children and granddaughter her eyes and smile berating Eleanore for pre-marital relations with Darren. He’d gotten that lecture a few times, but it had never slowed him down. His relationships had also not lasted as long as the young mortal and halfling’s. 

“She’s alive. My mom’s mom isn’t but my dad’s mom is. Kicking and calling me once a week from Florida,” Eleanore frowned. “But that’s not what I asked you about.”

“But now I’m interested,” Loki protested. “How did your dinner and coffee go? You barely explained them.”

“They were fine. We went to my dad’s favorite restaurant. This morning, we just got Caribou because we both like that.” Eleanore’s demeanor changed to defensive as Loki questioned her, and it grew more so as she answered. “Good enough?”

It was time for a little revenge. “What restaurant?” 

“Maury’s Steaks. He always gets something, orders it rare, then sends it back because they didn’t cook it enough.” She accepted his challenge, likely understanding what he was trying to do. 

“What did you talk about?” Loki asked innocently.

“I told him I graduated. He’d forgotten about that, apparently, since I went a couple years early. He wishes I’d done a different degree. He kept saying, ‘Why didn’t you continue with that meteorology class? My daughter the meteorologist.’” She sighed. “I told him I got a job with SHIELD, and he didn’t like that either. He’s nicer now that I’m grown up, kind of. Instead of telling me to do things, he asks me why I haven’t.”

“What is a meteorologist?” Loki queried, giving her a break.

“A scientist that analyzes weather patterns and makes predictions. I took a class on it to fulfill a requirement, and I just thought it was interesting. I kept my textbook to look at sometimes. It’s at home if you want to see it.”

“And why did he not believe you when you claimed an emergency?” Loki hit with the main punch— the question that should bring her to a stuttering halt, or anger her so much that she told him to mind his own business.

“I’m always super tense around him, and he knows it. He thought I was just trying to get away. I’ve done it before,” Eleanore sighed instead and leaned on the arm of her chair to look up at Loki. “Now tell me about first aid on Asgard.”

“I was taught basic field medicine,” Loki complied, even though her demand was not a real order. “How to splint bones, use healing stones, so on. Rudimentary things that any person with sense could do. Why have you tried to get away before?”

“Because I have to, sometimes. Can’t handle it any more. Will you teach me how to set bones?”

Loki felt like they were having two different conversations. Eleanore was answering his questions, but she was more interested in the information he offered. “You have set them before in the Tower. That man from the rubble.  Why do you need to leave?”

“I just can’t listen to him anymore. ‘Muslims this, mutants that’. Both groups apparently have an agenda to end this country. No matter how much I tell him otherwise, he doesn’t listen. Watches Fox News and only hears what he wants to hear. He’s started open-carrying a gun, in case he meets a hostile on the tough streets of Libertytown. And I don’t know how to really set them. I’d like to learn. Sometime? Please?”

“Very well.” Loki processed what she’d said, knowing he was agreeing to something he would hate. Broken, displaced bones were one of the things that turned his stomach. “Mutants?”

“He hates mutants,” Eleanore said simply. “And no, he doesn’t know about me. I found out during a time we didn’t talk very much, and when we finally did, he started in about how bad they were. We are. Before I could get to telling him. So I just let him ramble and hope none live near him. It’s easier.” She looked up at Loki with an open expression. “Any more questions?”

“You are a model of family stability,” he jested, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with how close Eleanore’s life was to his own. The differences were there, though. She was not a true monster at her core, for one thing. Strip away her humanity, and you were left with protective and healing abilities.

She smiled and then chuckled. “I know. I’ll try to make sure you don’t meet him. Shouldn’t have to worry about it too much, since he doesn’t visit often.”

Loki decided to drop the subject she wanted left alone. It was getting him no real revenge. She was too frank and honest, telling him everything and more than he wanted to understand. “The first thing you must know about setting a broken bone is that force is necessary.”

“For what?” Eleanore asked, growing more animated and interested.

“To pull the bone back into place. You must sometimes pull for minutes to get it readjusted. Do you recall Darren’s relocation of Rogers’ arm bone?”

“He didn’t pull, he jerked.”

“I was told never to do that. It could injure the muscles that contract to protect the injured area. Pull steadily instead until the muscles relax and let the bone go back into place.”

“Wait.” She put a hand on his arm and sat up straight, looking toward the door where Rogers had disappeared.  Authorized Personnel Only: Do Not Enter. She stared at it for a moment, then sat back, taking her hand away. “False alarm. I think they sedated him. Sorry, I’m still listening.”

“Well, after you set the bone, I believe you splint it and go see a healer.” Loki finished the narrative, recalling everything he’d learned before he and Thor had been allowed to embark on their first adventure without supervision. It was considered a rite of passage for Asgardians, and especially the princes. 

“What are healing stones?” The questions, apparently, would not end with his explanation. 

“Someone is very curious today,” Loki said, looking down with condescension. He didn’t mind it, but she needed to know her place.

“ Someone sounds like my mom.” Eleanore laughed up at him, looking like the parent she loved. “Did you like visiting her the other day? She said you had tea again.”

“Your mother is an infinitely more bearable person than her offspring,” Loki informed her. All he got was another chuckle. “Do you not wish to know why?”

“Because she’s quieter?” Eleanore guessed. “Or because you like people closer to your own age?”

Loki stared at her for a second, then let himself snort and dissolve into his own burst of laughter. “No, because she at least offers some delicious beverage before she talks my ears to ruin.”

“All you’ve had is tea, and I gave you some—”

“Mr. Rogers is asleep,” a different woman approached them, wearing a white coat and one of Eleanore’s listening devices. She had short gray hair and long legs covered in green trousers that matched her shirt exactly. “He’s been admitted to the hospital, and I think he should stay a few days.” She paused, looking between them. “Sorry, my name is Doctor Abano. I’ll be checking up on Mr. Rogers. Do you know what hospital he normally goes to, so I can get a recent history?”

Eleanore stood up and shook the doctor’s hand. “I’m Eleanore Engman and this is Loki. We’re Captain Rogers’ friends and neighbors. He’s affiliated with SHIELD, so I’ll call over and have them send you what they can. I don’t know how detailed it will be, though.”

“Captain Rogers?” the doctor asked. “Captain Steven Grant Rogers?”

“He says I sound like his mom if I call him that,” Eleanore said. Loki mentally filed that tidbit of information away. “But yeah.”

“Captain America, then. Captain America is lying in that bed with hypovolemia.” 

“Yeah,” Eleanore answered again. “But please don’t alert anyone. Or tell anyone here. He’s kind of a private person.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Dr. Abano assured her. “I was just shocked. Are you two…?”

“I’m sorry, but can we go see Steve?” Eleanore asked, interrupting the hanging question. Loki knew she wanted to keep her identity as an Avenger a secret. Since learning more about her family, he could understand why. He didn’t think it would last, though. She was romantically involved with a Stark, and she took her helmet off whenever she healed someone. People would figure things out.

“Of course. I’ll try to get you an extension on visiting hours, if you’re family,” Dr. Abano turned and gestured for them to follow her down the hallway.

“Then we’re family,” Eleanore said firmly. Loki fell in step beside her as they went up a flight of stairs and turned down a hall filled with doors. 

“He’s in a private room right now. I assume you’ll want to keep it that way?” the doctor asked, stopping in front of a door with the numbers 2271.

“Yeah, if we could, please.” Eleanore’s voice changed with courtesy, gaining a softness that made her sound older and kinder than she normally did. Loki wondered how old she actually was. 

“Okay. We’ve got him on sedatives, but I doubt they’ll keep  him under. It’s okay though, as long as he doesn’t move too much. He’s getting blood and saline, and he’s on oxygen.” Dr. Abano opened the door quietly and ushered them inside. “He’ll probably have a pretty severe headache when he wakes up. Press the call button when he does so I can come give him a conscious check up.”

“We will. Thanks.” Eleanore shut the door as the doctor left. 

The room was mostly white and gray. White floors, gray walls, white blinds that reminded Loki of the special sun-energy gatherers that were drawn during Alfheim’s hot afternoons. These only appeared to block light, instead of using it. There was a counter with a sink and a series of cupboards above and below it directly to their left. A semi-translucent, white spotted sheet of a curtain hung in front of them, blocking their view of a shadowy platform where Rogers must be lying. The window was large, and its light was the only thing illuminating the room.

Loki hated the place immediately. It smelled of some sort of cleaner, and he could hear feet constantly moving up and down the carpeted hallway. Whispers through the door. The sun shone too harshly through the glass, reflected off some unforgiving surface. It was too quiet, except for the whirring of machinery on the other side of the curtain. This was not a place of healing, it was where people came to die.

“It’s okay,” Eleanore murmured, reading his emotions. “I don’t like hospitals either, but they’re not too bad once you get used to them.”

Loki thought about how much she must have gotten used to this very feeling of dread that sat, unexplained, deep in his stomach. Her mother had surely been in a place like this before. Eleanore would have visited, just as she would with Rogers, possibly staying overnight. Loki would not share that responsibility. 

Satisfied with her poor attempt at comforting him, Eleanore was quietly walking toward the curtain. Loki followed her before she disappeared behind it to join the still shadows and hum of mortal medicine. 

Rogers was asleep, his lips no longer blue at all. The tube from the ambulance was still stuck in his nose, connected to green tanks, and he had multiple cords holding him to a silver machine with a bag of blood and a bag of the saline hooked onto it. The machine was emitting the noises as it dispensed exact amounts of fluid, measured in drops that flowed through the clear tubes and into the sleeping man’s body. Another one had cords that ran under his tunic, sending sharp indications onto a black screen with green lines and numbers.  80, 97, 98.  One of its cords also connected to a white clip that hung from the man’s pointer finger. Rogers was pale still, almost as white as the sheets he lay against. The bed was propped up slightly so he could look around if he woke up. He no longer wore his sweated-through clothing, instead clad in a paper-thin tunic that looked absolutely useless for anything but a vague attempt at modesty. The blankets that covered him were better, thicker, a warm shade of brown.

Two identical cushioned chairs sat beside the bed, and a couch was in corner next to the window. Eleanore took the chair closest to Rogers’ head, sitting cross-legged and making herself comfortable. She set her purse down beside her and pulled out her phone, looking up at Loki as if to say,  “What’s the matter? ”

It was this place, Loki would have answered her. But he would never admit to fear in front of a pitiful mortal wench, so he resolutely sat and held his head high like he was perched on Asgard’s throne. If only that were true, or even possible.

Eleanore was texting again, Agent Hill this time. The questioning woman had heard about Rogers’ trip to the hospital and was asking whether he could be moved to a SHIELD facility. Eleanore replied saying it was recommended to keep him still and resting, asked for his medical information to be sent over, finishing by promising to stay with him. She did not include Loki in her guarantee, which he found refreshing. 

“Do you want to go home?” Eleanore breathed, just on the threshold of a mortal’s hearing.

Loki considered it, knowing her definition of ‘home’ was different from his nonexistent one. “I will stay if you wish it.” It would be miserable to stay alone in this horrible place. He gave her the option out of courtesy to Lydia, who would probably want him to be kinder to her only child.

“Can I see your phone, then?” Eleanore asked, the request clashing oddly with her previous question. Loki handed the technology over, and she hit her device against his. The screens lit up with arrows, and when she gave it back, his cell phone had a series of pictures in tiny squares on its screen.  Checkers, Chess, Four-In-A-Row, Solitaire, Gin, Poker. The words were as small as the images they sat under. 

“They’re games. I thought you might like chess,” Eleanore explained, still barely mouthing the words. “It’s strategy”

Loki tapped the Chess icon and a screen popped up, offering to teach him the game. He went through something called a tutorial quickly, and picked up on the rules. When he was finished, he was offered the chance to play alone, or with a picture of Eleanore’s face. She held up her own screen, showing his identification photo. 

“If you want.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, but pressed the button with her name anyway. If she was trying to show him up, he would disappoint her. There was a similar game on Asgard that he and Thor had played on rainy days. Loki always won.

Eleanore was  not trying to make fun of him. She was terrible, making the most obvious mistakes, falling into every trap Loki set without fail. “Are you even trying?” he asked, keeping his volume low and glancing at Rogers. He was still fast asleep. 

“I am. That’s the sad part.” Eleanore grinned and huffed a chuckle. “I’m terrible at strategy. You can play against the computer if you want.”

“Just think,” Loki said. “Look, there. You should have moved the knight instead of the pawn.”

“But I don’t want the knight to die,” Eleanore explained. 

“It’s called a necessary sacrifice,” Loki insisted. “It does not even take my superior brain to accept it.” Thor ‘necessarily sacrificed’ many of his pieces in the name of his so-called plans. It was the one principle he quoted often. Loki had always wondered how it would transfer to real battle.

“Superior brain…” She smiled widely at that, holding back giggles. 

“If you doubt me, just look at the board.” Loki grinned smugly. Most of her pieces were gone. He was set on capturing all of them that he could before winning, just to keep it interesting.

“I always lose at chess. You’re not special for that,” Eleanore informed him. 

“That does not make your defeat any less humiliating,” Loki said, striking the final blow. 

“How will I ever face my mother again?” Eleanore asked sarcastically. “Want a granola bar?”

“Where do you keep getting these things?” Loki asked.

“The store. They come in a box of like eight. Good for snacking.” Eleanore pulled two from her purse and handed him one. Peanut butter and chocolate. It was not intolerable, but Loki missed real food. The Chinese the night before had been atrocious. The smell alone had revolted him, and when he’d gamely tried some of the dishes, he’d had to strictly control his face to keep it from contorting. Salty and strange, slimy. The lettuce was bearable.

“We could try poker,” Eleanore suggested, then froze, her eyes widening. She grabbed Rogers’ hand just as it reached for the IV tubes in an impressive display of reflexive dexterity.

The man was only half-awake and fully confused. “The hell am I?” He raised his other arm to defend himself, squinting at Eleanore. Loki stood up, ready to snatch her out of the way if Rogers got violent. He was weakened, but he could still probably throw her out the window. 

“Steve, it’s me.” Eleanore started, taking both his hands in hers so he couldn’t pick at the wires running into and out of him. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yeah,” the Captain responded, his voice cracking over the single syllable. He swallowed hard, and forced his eyes open. Closed them again with a wince. “Hospital?”

“Uh huh,” Eleanore confirmed, picking up a plastic thing with flat symbols on it. She pressed the red one. “A doctor’s going to come give you a check up. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Loki wondered why that assurance was necessary to make Rogers relax, looking like a grateful youth. He  wanted to berate the noble, all-knowing Captain for putting them in this awful room that smelled of death. But Captain America was not lying there held to the earth like Lydia had been by mortal instruments of life giving. Steven Grant Rogers was. For some reason, knowing the man’s full name made a difference. Loki could distinguish between the Captain and the man behind the cowl. He began to see why Eleanore treated the leader of their team with such concern and deference. Rogers could not be much older than she was, and he was expected to lead people twice his age, nearly. Many times his age, in fact. But underneath the stern efficiency lay the man who cared about keeping his knights alive just as much as he knew when to make a necessary sacrifice.

Where did that come from? Loki had not thought so… in-depth about someone else since long before his fall. He knew his family, he knew the palace servants, he knew the guards. Ever since his realization, Loki had been trying to understand himself, and to protect his wellbeing. Now, his mind reached out and made connections without invitation. He didn’t like it.

“Could you close the blinds, please?” Eleanore asked him in a whisper. He did, but the lights in the ceiling turned on a moment later as Doctor Abano walked in. 

“Are we awake?” she asked brightly. Too loud. Rogers blanched and turned his face toward Eleanore, bringing his non-punctured hand over his eyes. “That’ll be the headache,” Abano continued.

“Might you conduct this check later?” Loki asked at a lower volume.

“Sorry, it’s best to get it done as early as possible. Okay Captain Rogers. Do you want your friends here or gone?” A nurse entered the door as she spoke, pushing a cart with a computer on it. 

“Here,” Rogers said. He took his hand from his eyes and forced them open. He looked at Eleanore and Loki, then faced the doctor with grim determination. “Sorry. I’m ready.”

“It won’t take long.” Dr. Abano stepped forward on the other side of the bed. Eleanore stayed close, but Loki backed up to sit on the sofa. He could still see everything. “Just taking your numbers,” the doctor wrote on a hard board, then handed it off to the nurse and took a small flashlight from her white coat’s pocket. “Follow my finger,” she said, ignoring Rogers’ straining facial muscles as he avoided closing his eyes. “Looking good. Okay, close your eyes and lift your arms to the same height.”

What followed was a series of inane tests and questions that Loki assumed were meant to assess whether Rogers had taken damage to his brain.  “How many fingers are on each of my hands? Now? What’s my name tag say? Move the toes on your right foot. Now just the big toe. Now your whole leg. Who is this?  (it was Eleanore)  What does the clock say?  (twelve thirty) What year is it?

“Two thousand twelve,” Rogers said, a hint of sadness creeping over his face before he wiped it away with his stoic expression.

“That’s great. As far as I can tell, you’re in perfect working order.” The doctor patted Rogers’ leg familiarly, and he stiffened ever so slightly. “We’ll get you a CAT scan tomorrow, but just rest for today.” She gave a last nod and walked out of the room.

“Do you feel like some lunch?” the nurse asked. 

“No thank you,” Rogers said politely.

“Okay honey. Sleep if you can. It’ll help the headache go away.” The nurse was better than the doctor, her words actually instilling a little bit of comfort. She left, shutting off the light.

Rogers sighed in relief as the room darkened. He opened his eyes more easily and looked up at Eleanore. “You can yell now, if you’re going to.”

“Thanks for the permission,” she said, quirking a grin. “That was damn stupid, Steve.”

“Sorry,” the man apologized again, “I felt better walking there. It was when my heart sped up…” Rogers frowned, remembering. “I couldn’t see anything, and I felt cold. It sounded like I was under water.”

“You’re not,” Eleanore said quickly. Another avoidance Loki didn’t understand. “Loki found you right after you collapsed. He got an ambulance to finally take you to the hospital. Which I know you hate, but at least they’re giving you some blood now.”

“What else?” Rogers asked suspiciously, looking up at the two bags.

“It’s saline solution to keep you hydrated,” Eleanore explained. “We’ve been with you. Ever since they got you stabilized.”

“Thanks,” Rogers said. He turned to Loki and held his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Do not let it happen again,” Loki said, his voice not conveying the coldness he wished it would. These abominable mortals were corrosive as waves on the sandy beach at Asgard’s Ending Ocean. He stood, wanting to get away. “I will return to the apartment.”

“Okay. Just be careful if you teleport, okay?” Eleanore held a hand out, stopping him a moment. “There are a lot of machines keeping people alive around here. Wouldn’t want to short them out.”

“I’ll do my best.” Loki walked out of the room, deciding if he was going to transport he’d do it outside. Once he got there, though, he just decided to walk. Crossed busy streets, ambled among humanity unnoticed. Even if he was wearing his full armor, he would likely be ignored as an oddity. There were many men and woman in strange costumes, some advertising a product, some just on their way somewhere. How had he let himself become so accustomed to this realm, to his captors, in such a short time? It was pathetic. He was  feeling for them. Sympathy, surprise, humor. Lydia had started it, obviously, but Loki had let it continue. Couldn’t let himself be alone any longer, when alone was how he’d once thrived. It was surest sign that the mortal’s weakness was rubbing off on him, tarnishing the person he once was.

He let himself into the apartment with a flick of his wrist and a bit of power. Everything was quiet, the cat and dragon asleep on the couch, the traffic slowing with the midday lull. He ignored the other beings and went straight into his bedroom.  My cell , he reminded himself. The whole realm was a prison, with Heimdall as a constant guard and Asgard as a eternal threat and judge.

But how could he remember that all the time, when this place often felt more peaceful than even the royal palace? Even during battle he was more sure of himself, somehow. Magic, an intrinsic part of his being, was completely approved of, even encouraged. He allowed himself liberties of speech and action on this realm that he never did anywhere else. No longer the prince, he was a person, and what kind he did not know. He was letting himself be influenced by the people around him, which was unacceptable. The people around him were his captors. The bracelet on his wrist was a binding chain.

He absently played with the metal, warmed to the temperature of his skin. The same as the day it was placed there. A sign of servitude and penance. 

The cat entered his room, pushing through the partially-open door and sitting at his feet. It looked up at him with its strange green eyes. Asgard did not have cats. Asgard’s people did not often have pets, and those who did were considered eccentric. Just like magic users. Other realms’ inhabitants welcomed dumb animals into their homes as a matter of course, but Asgard was clean, vibrant, bright. Animals would ruin that. Loki picked up the cat and stroked its soft fur as it settled in the crook of his arm. It was actually a very hygienic little beast. It just wanted a bit of love, a lot of food, and to dash about the floor chasing everything it could bat around. Loki liked watching it play, and he even laughed at its wild-eyed antics when no one could see.

Try to enjoy the journey instead of only longing for the destination. Lydia’s words rang more true than Loki liked. He was on a journey with an unclear destination. Yes, he would be set free someday, and then what? And what until then? 

What more than that? He kept coming back to that phrase for some reason. He supposed it was because he wanted to know what more he was, if he was more than a monster disguised as a prince, now masquerading as an Avenger. Rogers was more than his title, as the drawings and video gaming and wry sense of self-deprecating humor revealed. He had more depth than Loki even knew, but that Eleanore seemed familiar with. Hidden fears, past experiences. Mortal lives were shorter than his had been, but they were just as complicated.

That was what had connected him to them, he realized. Discovering their personalities. Their quirks and strangeness, their acceptance of each other. He wanted that acceptance, he could admit that, but not from them and not under these circumstances. Everyone wanted acceptance. When humans found it, they banded together, called each other family. Some, like his captors, welcomed others into their circle.

Was that so awful? Not for them. They could band together all they wanted; their lives were ultimately meaningless. Loki was a creature of the fates and stars, and he would last longer than they. His impact was questionable, but he’d be in the history books, at least, as the prince who’d gone mad and tried to end another realm. Was that what he wanted? To be remembered? For causing death and destruction?

His cell phone vibrated with a text message from Eleanore.  “There’s a black and gray bag right next to my med pack under my bed. If you come back today, could you please bring it? If you don’t want to, please send it with Jet. He can find me. -Eleanore”

Loki stared at the white box with the blinking black line that awaited his response. Did he want to go back? Before he could decide, another text appeared.

“Did you get back okay? I’ll probably stay overnight here. There’s leftover chicken casserole in the fridge if you want it. Steve’s sleeping on and off.”

Loki could reply to that.  “I am in the apartment.” He paused typing, thought about it, then continued,  “I will deliver your bag within the day.”  He sent the message and put the phone in his pocket. The cat saw the motion and reached out from his arm, stretching its toes to catch his sleeve.

“Stop that,” Loki commanded, placing the fiend on his bed and walking out of the room. He heard the  thump as Charlie jumped down and followed him into Eleanore’s room. The gray and black bag was exactly where she said it was, under her unmade bed. He pulled it out, and a strange-looking black book with clear plastic pages came with it, attached to the strap. Inscribed in gold letters on the front were the words,  “For my wonderful daughter. Love, Mom.”

Loki set the book aside. He did not need Eleanore to be ‘personified’ any more in his mind. It was already happening far too quickly, anyway. 

His phone went off again, this time with a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Elle says she can’t take a call right now,” Lydia’s voice was stretched thin and tinny over the distance and signal. “Could you tell me what happened?”

Loki sighed, transporting through the air and eliciting an exclamation of “God… bless America,” from the woman.

“I tell stories better in person,” he explained, seating himself in his accustomed chair and setting Eleanore’s bag on the ground. “I will be brief. I have to deliver this.”

“That’s nice of you,” Lydia said, hanging up her phone and inspecting him with an experienced air. “You were nicer to Elle yesterday, too. Are things going better?”

“Did you not ask me to explain a certain series of events?” Loki evaded. 

“Sure. Why can’t Steve stay out of trouble?”

“That is beyond my purview,” Loki shook his head. He quickly related the events of the morning, including Eleanore’s coffee with her father. “You married a mutant-hater.”

“Mutants, Muslims, women sometimes. He hates everything,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Which is why the irony of his amazing mutant daughter is so rich.”

“That is one point of view,” Loki agreed, smiling. He stood with a sigh, “I suppose I should find that child of yours.”

“Is she okay? Sometimes seeing him makes her tense.” Lydia stood with Loki, then walked to the little kitchen area. 

“As far as I can tell, she is more concerned with the Captain’s condition,” Loki lied. Eleanore had been more than ‘tense’ the night before, and upon finding Loki in the hospital. He did not wish to describe her in detail, though, and she was unlikely to be in danger from her stress.

Lydia got into a cupboard and pulled a bottle of something red out, tossing it to Loki. “Here, she likes that kind of water. Do you want one?”

“No, thank you. I shall be on my way.” He stowed the bottle in the bag and nodded, transporting away before she could delay him further with talk of her ‘amazing’ child. He landed on the sidewalk outside the hospital. Braced himself and walked through the doors. This was still making an effort.


	21. Hiding Isn't So Bad

The hospital room was cold, but Steve’s discomfort with that was offset by the blessed darkness that came with drawn shades. Eleanore’s face was illuminated by her cell phone screen as she sat beside his bed, slumped in her chair, her feet reclined on top of the covers. Steve watched her text Loki, her mother, Darren, Hill, in between bouts of drowsy slumber. 

The afternoon passed that way. Steve relaxed as he felt some warmth start circulating through his body as his blood was supplemented by someone else’s. They gave him two bags, saying his oxygen wasn’t where they wanted it to be. ‘They’ were the doctor and the nurses who came every hour and made Steve drink water and juice, eat some Jello, breathe deeply with the tubes in his nose. Because Eleanore was there, he let them change his IV, inject him with some kind of sedative. She made them explain everything as they did it, ignoring the annoyed looks she got from some of the tired-looking nurses. Talked to the SHIELD guards sent to stand outside his door. 

Dr. Abano explained that Steve had been healing slowly, for some reason. Slowly for what he was supposed to be capable of, anyway. He was still down by four pints of blood when he’d been admitted, but they were reluctant to give him any more than two in case his body reacted badly. They’d keep him and monitor him for at least two days and scan him for any signs of poisoning and nutrient deficiency. 

“You’re staying here the full two days,” Eleanore informed him sternly. Steve figured that was only fair, since she’d wanted him to come here in the first place and he’d just ended up causing more trouble. She went and shut the door, which the doctor always left open, and returned to pull the signal jammer from her purse. She turned it on. “Let me check something.” She held up her hands, light shining along their veins, and placed one on Steve’s neck where he’d been shot and one right over his heart. “Take regular breaths,” she instructed him as her eyes suddenly lit up too until she closed them.

Steve couldn’t feel anything but a vague tingling at first, from his head to his toes. Then it got warmer and stronger, and he started sweating again. “Elle—”

“There’s still something in your body,” she pressed harder on his chest, frowning lines across her forehead. “It’s really stubborn. I need… time.”

“Time indeed,” Loki said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “And what manner of witchcraft are you attempting?”

“I missed it the other day,” Eleanore replied, not opening her eyes. Steve felt like he was drowning in his own sweat, but he held still and stayed calm so his heart rate wouldn’t spike and draw attention from the hospital staff.

“Missed what?” Loki asked, setting down a bag he’d brought in on the couch and coming to stand over the bed.

“It’s like a self-replicating regeneration depressant,” Elle said, finally standing back. She didn’t look too tired yet, but Steve and Loki watched her cautiously. “I think it’s gone now. Sorry, you must feel gross.” She swept her hand over him, drawing the sweat off and into the sink. “Drink some more water.”

“So there was still some of that… drug?” Steve gulped water down, trying to replenish what he’d lost. 

“It must be part of their experimentation,” Elle confirmed. “Something that stays in your system, gradually slowing down your body’s healing. It was really hard to locate. I’ll have to tell Bruce.” She walked over to one of the cupboards and got a couple blankets down, spreading them over Steve. “Why didn’t you say you were so cold?”

“Didn’t come up,” Steve said, feeling the effects of both the sedative and the healing taking a toll on his consciousness. He was warm, too, so that made him even sleepier. Which was bad because he still had some questions. “Loki, how did you find me?”

“I knew when you left your apartment,” Loki answered. “I tracked you, knowing you were likely to do something stupid and dangerous.” He glared at Steve for a moment before turning his back and moving the blinds with his finger to look out the window. “My life depends on your wellbeing. At least consider that before you attempt to die.”

“I wasn’t trying to die,” Steve protested, looking to Eleanore for backup. 

She put a hand on his now-covered shoulder. “You need to be more careful. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. Just try to rest, okay? We won’t berate you any more.” That last was directed at Loki’s back. The demigod didn’t acknowledge it. 

Steve laid back and let his mind wander as Eleanore settled back onto her phone, this time scrolling through the news. Loki kept looking out the window. 

Steve knew he owed his life to both of them, several times over. But he was more experienced than Eleanore, at least. Maybe not Loki, although he doubted the thousand year-old man had seen war. Still, they were both right. Steve hadn’t been as careful as he should have. He hadn’t considered how his death would affect anyone else, and he hadn’t even thought about Loki dying if he did. He would think about it in the future, but he didn’t know if he could keep from jumping on grenades if it would save the rest of the team or civilians or whoever. Asgard should really take him off Loki-watch and just let Eleanore handle it. Or Elle and Darren. Anyone but Steve. All he wanted to do was protect his team and his people, no matter what that meant for him. His thoughts trailed into deeper waters and his eyes drifted closed. Soon he was asleep.

When he woke up, Elle’s head was leaning on the bed right next to his hand, bent over from the chair pulled close to the plastic-metal railing. It was dark out. Steve felt fully awake, finally, and the sedatives had kept dreams away. Loki was… he looked around. Gone. Not in the room, anyway. 

“Elle,” Steve said, not liking the angle her neck and back were at. She didn’t stir at the sound of his voice. “Eleanore. Wake up.”

“Fuck off,” she mumbled, “I’m tired.”

Steve had heard her curse before, so it was more amusing than shocking. He grinned and tried again. “No, come on. Just go to the couch.”

“Loki’s there.” She didn’t raise her head, but she sounded more awake.

Steve checked again and found no one. “No he’s not. Here, take a blanket and go lie down.” He’d tell her to go home, but driving wasn’t a good idea in her condition at two AM. 

“Loki’s gone?” She actually woke up for that, looking around and finally focusing on Steve. He couldn’t see much besides dark eyes an a silhouette of curling hair falling from a hair band. She reached down and picked her phone up off the floor. “Two?”

“You been out long?” Steve asked, watching her scroll through messages until she found one from Loki.  “I have returned to the apartment.”  It was from a few hours before, and it made Eleanore sigh with relief. 

“Four hours, I guess,” she said, stretching her arms over her head. There were various popping sounds until she finally stopped and refocused. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Steve said. “A lot better, actually.” He gave a small grin, “You can say, ‘I told you so,’ whenever you feel like it.”

“I don’t think I need to, in this case,” she smiled back. Her phone rang, its chime loud in the quiet room. Elle looked confusedly at the contact name.  Alan Hansen. She glanced apologetically at Steve, “Sorry, this might be important. My cousin.” Steve nodded, and she pressed the answer key. “Alan?”

“ Hey,”  a deep voice said through the speaker at Elle’s ear.  “The Jarvis guy said you were awake.”

“Is something wrong?” Elle sat back in the chair, tucking her feet under her. She didn’t look too worried. Yet. Steve listened with interest as she talked to the younger cousin she’d once described as a ‘kind-hearted jerk.’

“No.”  The kid paused, his voice gruff. Almost pouting.  “What’s being an Avenger like?”

“You’re mad about that? I called your mom the other day,” Elle laughed. “You were playing video games.”

“Could’ve called me,”  the voice protested.  “So tell me what it’s like. Or just come visit.”

“I will this summer,” Elle promised. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, though? Are you keeping Zeph up?” Zephaniah was her other cousin. He and Alan were unexpected twins, and Eleanore’s aunt had named them A and Z names, saying she wasn’t having any more kids.

“He’s got earphones in. Can you bring Tony Stark for a visit sometime? Or Hulk? ” 

“Maybe you could just be satisfied with me,” Elle suggested mirthfully. “Wait, Alan. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”

“No, but it sucks you won’t let me. No one cares about mutants,”  Alan grumbled. 

“Just give me some time. What’s going on with you? How’s school?”

“I might start for football next Fall. Coach says if I keep up with weights over the summer I’ll actually be big enough to hit Seniors from the other teams. And before you even ask, my grades are fine.”

“Mind reader,” Elle chuckled. “What constitutes ‘fine’?” Steve grinned at the authority that she naturally assumed, like a big sister. He supposed that was what she was, having grown up with her cousins in the same house. Close as siblings. Steve had always kind of wanted one, a brother or sister, it didn’t matter. But he’d always envisioned being the older one. He wondered what it was actually like. Bucky had been close, but he had two wonderful parents of his own. 

“I got the damn good student discount for car insurance,”  Alan groused.  “Math isn’t going great, though. You could tutor me on Boysenomics.”

“I didn’t do well with her, either,” Elle grimaced sympathetically. “But she likes jocks. What’s your problem?”

“I’m a smartass,”  Alan said honestly. Steve snickered silently.  “I mouth off when she gets crabby. Especially when she’s a bitch to Zeph.”

“Don’t refer to women that way,” Elle said patiently. “But why is she mean to Zeph?”

“He asks too many questions. Finds different ways to do things. Exactly like you,”  Alan said.  “But enough about that. Tell me about fighting aliens.”

“It was loud,” Elle started, sitting forward and looking at Steve, shrugging. He shrugged back. How did you describe battle to a kid? “There was a lot of screaming, lots of explosions.”

“ I saw you killing them,” Alan said, sounding more excited.  “Were they tough? What were their weapons like?”

“I healed people more than I fought. Got them to safety,” Elle protested. “The media just showed the fighting.”

“Was it scary?” Alan asked.

“Of course it was. There was a hole in the sky, and we didn’t know how to stop it. We just kept fighting, even when we were exhausted.” Steve nodded affirmation as Elle talked about it. The futility they’d felt was accurate. Those things just kept coming. And those giant ships took out buildings like they weren’t even there. It had taken half their team to take those down, while the other half was fighting on the ground against increasingly overwhelming odds. “… their weapons burned people right up. If someone got shot, that was it.” Elle’s voice was sad. 

“That sounds decidedly less cool than the news described it,”  a new voice, slightly clearer and quieter, said through the speaker. It was the other twin, Zephaniah. Elle had spoken animatedly about his scientific potential, and Darren had asked after him once, inquiring when he’d be able to bring the twins to the Tower for a visit. Elle had said Alan might need a little more time to mature so he didn’t break things when he was bored.

“I wondered if you’d wake up for the story,” Elle said, smiling brightly. “Did you hear I got a cat?”

“And a superhero neighbor,”  Zephaniah said.  “What’s that like?”

“Well, he’s nicer than the crabby couple who lived there before.” She looked at Steve and winked. He rolled his eyes. “And Charlie, the cat, is amazing. He’s just a little baby.” 

After that, she talked about her graduation and classes ending (the boys weren’t that interested), asked about anyone selling a newer SUV in their area (they knew a couple people), and talking about the training she was planning on doing to get stronger.

“Why are you even on the team?” Alan asked as the hour drew closer to three.  “You’re weaker than Captain America, and he’s like—”

“Alan, shut up before you say something stupid,” Elle advised. Steve frowned at the boy’s obvious critique of him. Was he that useless, even to the public? 

“I’m just saying, Iron Man is stronger— Zeph, stop it.”  There was a thump, and scuffling started over the speaker.

“Both of you stop, before your mom finds you still awake,” Elle said sternly. “And Alan, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took the phone away from her ear and held her hand over the speaker. “Sorry, Steve. He’s a stupid teenager.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said. And it was. The opinion of a kid who’d never met him was a lot less important than the trust of his team, which he had. 

“Is someone there? Is Darren?”  Zeph asked.  “Can I talk to him about an invention idea I have?”

“I’ll give you his number, but he’s not here.” Elle went back to talking to them, frowning. “What’s your idea?”

“I heard a voice,”  Alan pressed.  “We know you guys sleep together. Just put him on the phone.”

“Darren’s not here, you little twerp,” Elle scolded. She looked at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Covered the microphone again and whispered, “Do you mind if I tell them?”

“Go ahead.” Steve wanted to see what kind of reaction they’d have. 

“Who the hell is that?” Alan demanded, apparently still able to hear Steve’s tones. 

“It’s Steve. Captain America.” Elle paused, listening to the silence on the other end. “Did you faint?”

“You’re hanging out with Captain America at three in the morning?” Alan asked skeptically. 

“Yes, I am.” Elle thankfully left Steve’s hospitalization out of her explanation. “We’re neighbors.”

“Are you and Darren still a thing?” 

“Shut up Alan, of course they are.”

Steve had to grin at the two different personalities that came through the speaker. Zeph was calm and thoughtful, a lot like Darren and Bruce and Loki on a good day. He still got exasperated with his brother, though. Alan was brash and said what he thought before considering other options. Steve could compare both of them to Eleanore’s different ways of acting. They went on and on about how Eleanore should bring him to farm, Zephaniah because he wanted to see Steve’s shield (still the only sample of vibranium in existence), and Alan because he wanted to wrestle with Captain America.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Elle said after the call ended. “You don’t have to worry about meeting them anytime soon.”

“I wouldn’t mind. They sound… nice.” Steve wouldn’t insult her family, and they  were nice. Alan was just a kid, fifteen years-old. He’d grow up. Too soon, if Steve had any experience.

“They’re young,” Elle echoed his thoughts. “But they don’t mean any harm. Zeph does need to come see the Tower. It’s his dream.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It never seems like a good time, though. Maybe I’ll buy a car and have them road trip it out here.”

“Maybe you could go visit them instead,” Maria Hill suggested, entering the room so quietly she made both of them jump.

“Why’s that?” Elle asked, moving so Hill could sit down in the other chair by the bed.

“The leader of that terrorist group, Yumruk, was spotted in DC a couple hours ago.” Hill got right to business. Steve felt his chest clench, and he watched as she pulled a hologram up from the tablet she carried. It showed the guy all right, walking through an airport and talking on a cell phone. “We think he’s here for you, Steve. We want to get you guys out of here tonight, all three of you. Four, with the dragon.”

“Steve’s got another two days of bed rest,” Elle protested. “And I’m taking my cat. And my family doesn’t know I’m coming. And what about my mom?”

“You can go by car,” Hill said, her tone brooking no argument. “That’ll give them time to prepare. Steve can rest on the ride. And we put more security around her building as soon as we found the guy.”

“What if I don’t want to go into hiding?” Steve challenged. He didn’t like being sent around just to sit like a lump while someone was specifically looking to fight him. Sure he was weak, but the other guy wasn’t that strong. That Steve knew of. Again, he needed more information.

“This is less about what you want, and more about what will keep you safe,” Hill said, staring him down. “Eleanore, Loki, and Clint pulled you out with great personal risk. We think this guy’s part of something bigger now. We want to watch him and find out what, and we can’t do that in good conscience with you here in danger. Clint and Natasha are out on extended trips, so all that’s left of the team right now are the Starks and Bruce. If things get too bad, we’ll call you back in, but SHIELD’s going to try to handle it first.”

“I think she has a point, Steve,” Elle said reluctantly. “But we won’t go unless you’re okay with it.”

Steve made himself think about it, and what was best for the team. SHIELD had been handling threats like this since long before he’d woken up, so they’d probably take care of it just fine. Meanwhile, Elle could keep an eye on him and Loki easily, as she couldn’t with him laid up in the hospital. And seeing her family would be good for her. She’d said she hadn’t been back for years, and Steve guessed Lydia’s illness had kept her around, worrying. Loki was behaving much more cordially, so maybe spending time in nature would loosen him up even more. There was no real reason  not to go, except… “What if they attack the farm instead?”

“We’ll have operatives stationed nearby,” Hill assured him. “You won’t see them, but they’ll be around.”

Steve sighed, wondering if he would be able to dress himself. At least he’d gotten about six hours of sleep. He felt wide awake. “We’re leaving now?”

“A couple agents are at your apartments, packing bags and getting Loki and Jet.” Hill pulled out her phone and started texting. “I told them to bring the cat, too. Anything else?”

“My shield,” Steve said, thinking of Zeph. He wanted it anyway, but the kid could examine it all he wanted. Darren said vibranium melted at four thousand degrees Kelvin, which was higher than carbon, so no farm kid was going to damage it. Steve threw it around enough that it would have broken by now if it was going to. “Elle’s med pack and suit. Our weapons.” If there was an emergency, they should be as prepared as possible.

“If you are going to send strangers to wake me,” Loki’s voice materialized almost before he did, appearing fully armored in the room in an instant, “at least tell them to use caution.”

“Did you hurt anyone?” Hill asked, unimpressed.

“Fortunately for you, my mind is even faster than my reflexes.” Loki glared at her. He turned to Eleanore and Steve, holding out a bundle of cloth. “They asked me to deliver some clothes for the noble Captain.” He was clearly in a bad mood from being woken up in the middle of the night.

“Thanks,” Steve said, trying to change his focus. He took the clothes and held onto them. “Did they tell you where we’re going?”

“Yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow at Elle, “More of your delightful relatives.”

“They  are delightful, thank you.” She smiled at him and stood, popping even more joints. “You probably don’t need armor for a car ride.”

“I was advised to be wary until we have left this city behind,” Loki retorted. 

“Okay, okay,” She picked up her go-bag and went into the bathroom attached to Steve’s room. 

“We’ll wait behind the curtain if you want to get dressed,” Hill looked at Loki, who stepped back with her as she closed Steve’s bed into a little island complete with dark waves as air stirred the thin material.

Steve sat up, starting with his pants and underwear because he didn’t think it would be wise to rip the IV out of his hand. Would he be taking that with them? He hoped not. He felt a lot stronger, and his head wasn’t as light as he bent to put his socks on under blue jeans. The t-shirt Loki had given him was a nicer gray v-neck, soft and light. It would be comfortable, if he could figure out how to put it on while still hooked to the machine.

“Here, honey.” Nurse Roccio came around the curtain with some cotton patches and tape in her hands. “Let me see that one, yeah.” She stopped the IV machine and then pulled the needles from Steve’s hand, pressing the cotton over it and taping it up. “Don’t take these off for a day or so, okay? Don’t want to lose more blood.”

“Thanks,” Steve said gratefully. He put his shirt on and took a few experimental steps. It felt fine. Normal for his post-serum body. When he’d collapsed earlier, his last thought had been of his body reverting to his weak state, when he couldn’t protect anyone. He was still worried about it, in the back of his mind. It was irrational, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’re welcome,” Nurse Roccio said, pulling the curtain away when Steve was fully dressed. He sat in one of the bedside chairs and tied his shoes as an agent entered and whispered something in Hill’s ear.

“Car’s waiting outside,” she said. 

Elle emerged from the bathroom wearing a new outfit, hair pulled back in a bun. She looked alert and happy, probably relieved to be getting out of the hospital.

Steve used the restroom, and then followed Hill down to a side entrance of the building where a couple of large, black SUVs were parked. Charlie peeked out the window of one, and Jet lay in the very back seat, taking up the whole area proudly.

“Do you want to ride with us or fly?” Elle asked him. He just looked at her and laid his head in his paws. That was enough answer for Steve.

“Shotgun,” Loki claimed, opening the passenger door and depositing Charlie in the back seat. 

Hill almost cracked a smile at that. “We’ll update you on our progress. Be prepared to stay a week or more, though. We want to get to the bottom of this.” She shook Steve’s hand and Elle gave her a hug. “Have fun.”

“You too,” Elle said, walking around to the driver’s side. 

Steve pulled himself into the middle set of seats, and Charlie jumped in his lap immediately, curling up and hugging his left arm. He could see some bags lining the floor behind the middle row of two seats, his shield right with them. Elle’s suit was there, too, and Jet’s saddle. 

“Please fasten your seatbelts,” the car said in a male non-Jarvis voice.

“Is this self-driving?” Elle asked, punching some buttons on the touchscreen on the center console.

“Your destination is pre-set. Please buckle your seatbelts.”

“Guess so,” Steve said, following the instructions. Once they’d all strapped themselves in, the car started driving away, getting onto the interstate and picking up speed quickly. 

“That’s nice,” Elle said. “I hate driving all the way back home.”

“Keep your head turned,” Steve told her. “At least til we get out of DC.” If they were going to run, they were going to do it right. He turned away from the window as well, wary of any cameras that might catch them.

The ride was smooth, and the car sped anywhere from five to ten miles per hour over the speed limit. Once they got out of the city, it went even faster, apparently not worried about attracting attention from any police officers. Steve wondered if law enforcement was used to government vehicles speeding around like they owned the place. At least they’d get there faster.

Everyone relaxed noticeably once they left DC far behind. Steve stopped looking behind them as much, confident no one was following them in the wane early morning traffic. Loki disappeared his armor and wore casual Earth clothes instead. Elle waited until it was five AM before she called her aunt, reporting their impending visit and asking about the spare bedrooms in the house. Apparently it was a fairly large home, built by her grandparents to host both their daughters and their families over the holidays. Steve wondered if the two older people had liked having their children and grandchildren living with them in the end. The way Eleanore and Lydia had talked about them, he thought they had. If the rest of the family were anything like Elle’s Aunt June, who sounded thrilled at the prospect of her visit, they were all very close-knit.

“Will the lilacs be blooming?” he asked when Elle hung up the phone.

She turned with a bright smile and wide, excited eyes. “They should be. Spring comes a little later there.” For the next couple of hours, she listed facts about her home, hometown, friends from school. She’d pay them a visit, and her old teachers. Not only would the lilacs be blooming, but also the flower garden that got set up in April just outside the house’s big picture window. There would probably be work to do on the farm: June had mentioned something about fence and barn repair. Lawn mowing was a weekly occupation, if not more once the weather warmed up. The twins would be done with school soon, but they’d continue fitness sessions for a few hours every day. They’d be so excited to meet Steve and Loki. “If Alan tries to fight you, just please don’t hurt him.” There were stands of trees where Jet could stretch out in the sun and rest undetected by anything but cows. Darren had installed concealment tech long ago there, they just needed to be turned on. Zephaniah had built a small forge recently out of scavenged fire bricks and charcoal. He and Alan were collecting metal and ‘green sand’ to cast things like low-quality swords, knives, even engine parts for one of their junker vehicles. Elle’s birthday present to them had been a bellows for stoking the flames. Darren’s had been aluminum and iron ingots for experimentation. 

Steve listened to all this with a smile, noting how excited she was. Loki even seemed amused when Elle went on about nighttime campfires and ‘bullshit sessions’ that were tradition after a long day of work. Steve had never been to a farm, unless he counted the burnt countrysides during the War, which he didn’t. He was sure he’d like it, just because of the potential for peace and quiet. He was worried he wouldn’t fit in because he was still so used to being called for battle at all hours. What if he got bored, or what if he and Loki got recognized in the small town as Avengers and Elle’s cover was blown? She was just Eleanore Engman, normal human there.

Enough worrying, he told himself, glancing back again. They’d been on an empty stretch of road for about fifteen minutes, but now they were catching up to some traffic as they got closer to Pittsburgh. 

“Wow, I talked for a long time.” Elle wound down and took some deep breaths. 

“I will not deny such a truth,” Loki joked, looking up from his book he’d pulled out once the sun started rising. 

“It’s fine,” Steve assured her. “I feel like I know the place already.”

“Does anyone need to stop?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. They were through Pittsburgh, but there were still lots of gas stations and rest stops along the way. “Steve, you should eat.”

“Sounds good, actually,” Steve agreed. His stomach was grumbling with the first signs of real hunger. He hadn’t eaten much the day before, and his body needed food almost as often as Darren wanted to eat.

They stopped and filled the car with gas, even though it wasn’t even a quarter empty. Stark-designed, very efficient. Steve bought a breakfast pizza, which they all ate standing up next to a table outside a gas station, letting Charlie run around on his leash and harness and Jet stretch in the grass. It was really good. Then they loaded up on water and snacks, used the restrooms again, and got back on the road. Being on the move early in the morning was energizing.

“Shotgun,” Steve said, grinning at Loki’s glare.

“I can sit in the back,” Elle offered. “The car drives itself. Steve, you might want to be in the driver’s seat, in case something happens.”

“Sure.” Steve could have sworn he saw Loki smirk at him as he climbed back into the passenger seat and slid the chair all the way back. Elle sat behind Steve, and he had plenty of leg room without sliding back too much. It really was nice to let the car drive itself. Steve took the wheel for a while, just to get used to the automatic gears, then he let the machine take over again.

That stretch of travel lasted six hours. Elle fell asleep curled up with Charlie for two of them, then woke up and put some games on Steve’s phone. Loki challenged him to a virtual chess match, and Steve gave him a run for his money before admitting defeat an hour later. Loki actually looked impressed, but he didn’t comment, other than a smug smirk when Steve’s last pieces fell over in a sparkling animation. Then they all played virtual poker, and Loki won again and again until Elle faked him out and made him lose half his money. 

“Luck,” he growled, but he wasn’t angry. 

“Skill,” Elle countered, laughing. “And luck.”

Steve did better in the games following those. He learned his own tells, although Loki proclaimed him a terrible liar again. Elle asked the car to play some old jazz, and it did, providing a nice change as they all grew bored with travel. The afternoon wore on, and the land transformed from pastureland to fields and back. Cities were just places to avoid, and they wore hats whenever they had to go somewhere with a camera. They played through every game on their phones, then tried some real-life ones. The Alphabet Game, Yellow Car, Would You Rather. Steve would rather run through a wall of fire than swim in a muddy lake (he’d done both before, though, so it wasn’t a fair question). Elle would rather live in New Zealand than Canada. Loki would rather ride a horse than a chariot pulled by dragons (he could tell what a horse would do, thank you). Elle was best at spotting first-lettered objects, but Loki won when they switched to only using signs. He could see farther. Steve called foul, which actually made the demigod laugh and playfully mock his inferior perceptions. Steve just chuckled and gave up the argument, trying harder to win instead. He still lost. Loki was pleased with himself.

Another quick stop and several phone calls from Elle’s aunt and uncle and mother later (Lydia was  very happy Eleanore was finally visiting their old home again), and they were crossing the Iowa-Illinois border. They still had to cover most of the state to get to Elle’s home town of Lilledanske, which meant four more hours, but Steve felt like they were in the home stretch. Elle got even more excited, pointing familiar landmarks out, talking about family trips taken for football games and some sort of bike ride across the state she’d done for a fundraiser in high school. “My tire went flat in this town, and a nice cowboy-hat guy helped me find a new tube.” “My cousins bought some cows from a farm around here.” “This is where my mom went to college.” “Zeph broke his arm swinging into that lake on a dare… I dared him.” There was less traffic as they went along in the evening sunlight, even as they went through the capitol, Des Moines. 

“The monks,” Steve muttered. They were only an hour away now, traveling into the sunset.

“You know French?” Elle asked. Steve took up most of the rest of the trip describing his time in France and Jaques’ unique way of teaching. If Steve said something wrong, he had to do one hundred push-ups. This almost always led to a competition, and even Peggy had joined in once with a record of one hundred and three push-ups, one-armed.

They got closer, with signs for Lilledanske appearing along the interstate. Twenty miles, ten, seven miles from this exit. The car turned onto a bumpy local highway, its map showing their destination address only four miles away. Steve was hungry, having only snacked since a lunch at Subway, where they’d taken an outside picnic table and let Charlie and Jet out one more time before the final stint of driving. He was also feeling weary, even down to his muscles. Elle had made him drink tons of water, but he was still thirsty, an effect of his body’s now-accelerated regeneration. Elle was bouncing in her seat, grinning from ear to ear, and Charlie jumped onto the floor to get away from her excitement. Loki just looked around impassively at everything. Steve looked out at the unfamiliar fields where tiny plants were just starting to green and couldn’t imagine growing up somewhere so open. There weren’t that many trees, just hills rolling and grasses waving in the light from the dying sun. It was nine thirty at night, and dusk was filling the valleys with darkness that gradually traveled up their sides to meet the rainbow-tinted sky. 

One mile away from the farm, they turned onto a gravel road. The car slowed down, and after all day doing eighty on the interstate, it felt like crawling. Finally, they entered a long driveway and climbed a shallow incline lined with lilacs until the white house from Elle’s pictures appeared, every window shining with light.

“You have arrived,”  the vehicle informed them, parking itself next to a three-car garage. The doors unlocked, and Elle bolted immediately, shoving Charlie into Loki’s hands and dashing over the multicolored rocks of the driveway to meet the two tall teenagers who ran out the house’s main door.

“No wonder Mom cooked so much food!” one of them yelled, swinging Elle around like a rag doll and throwing her to his brother. Steve could already tell which was which, as the second boy caught her and greeted her more quietly with just as big of a hug. 

“She didn’t tell you?” Elle laughed up at Zephaniah, then turned as Alan walked over to the car and stuck out his hand. “Guys, meet Steve and Loki. Steve and Loki, meet Alan and Zephaniah Hansen.”

Steve shook Alan’s hand, then watched Loki out of the corner of his eye. The demigod had taken a few bags on his shoulders, and returned the handshake with a cordial smile and greeting. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” 

Well, that was a relief. Steve went to get some of the stuff, climbing into the back seat as Jet climbed out and grabbing his shield and go-bag, which was packed full to bursting. He wondered if his suit was in there, or if he had one at all.  Here’s hoping.

“I can take your bag,” Zephaniah offered, shouldering the pack Steve handed him. Alan had Elle’s bags, and he was making fun of her for bringing so much stuff. 

“Planning on moving back home?” he asked, fingering Jet’s saddle curiously. 

“Not right now,” Elle took Charlie off Loki’s hands and picked up her backpack from college. She hefted it and met Steve’s eyes. “I think this has our computers and stuff.”

‘And stuff’ hopefully meant his sketching supplies. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about unknown SHIELD agents going through his belongings. But there was no time to figure it out because their group was heading toward the house, where a man and a woman stood in the light cast by the open door. 

June Hansen looked a lot like her sister and niece, with long dark hair, smiling brown eyes, and a warm grin. Elle’s hair fell in the middle of the curly spectrum between her mother’s straight and her aunt’s coiled locks. “Nice to meet you, Steve.” She was holding a brown and white spotted dog by the collar. 

“Ma’am,” he said, feeling a little out of breath from  carrying a stupid bag . “Thank you for having us.”

“We’re proud to,” said Coleman, her husband. He was a big man with a deep voice, light blondish gray hair, and blue eyes. He and June were both smiling widely as Elle finally reached the house. “Come on in! We kept supper for you.”

“It took  forever ,” Alan added, following Steve into the house. The entryway was actually part laundry room, part dog kennel, part pantry. White linoleum floors with colorful cloth rugs, light blue walls, wooden cabinets with glass doors that showcased jellies, canned vegetables, something that looked like salsa, storebought foodstuffs like chips. Cat food and a little bowl of water sat on top of the dog kennel, and a litter box sat behind it. A big silver freezer sat next to a door that led to another single-car garage. A white tile counter held a vase of lilacs, which Elle stopped to inhale for a good ten seconds before moving on into the main house.

They all shuffled into the white tile floor, wooden countertop kitchen with the normal after-travel rustling of bags and murmurs. Elle led the way, after a moment, into the open dining room, into the gray-carpeted living room with a stone fireplace that reached up to the high, slanted ceiling. They trekked up a wooden staircase into a loft area with a bedroom to one side and a hall with more rooms to the other.

“This is why we had to clean the spare rooms out today, too,” Alan commented. “Mom said it was spring cleaning.”

“She didn’t tell me you didn’t know,” Eleanore told him. “Steve, Loki, your rooms are over here.” She moved into the hallway, putting the cat down at last to dash around the huge space. The entire upstairs was half the size of the main floor, and it was at least twice the size of Eleanore’s entire apartment. “Steve,” Elle opened the first door on the left, “and Loki,” the one next to that. Steve found a double bed inside with a dresser, closet, and a view up the hill behind the house. He put his bag and shield down, then accepted his other bag from Zephaniah, who eyed his shield with longing. 

“Here.” Steve handed it over, watching as the boy’s eyes lit up. 

“Thanks,” Zeph said reverently, hefting the shield and tapping it with his fingernails. The twins weren’t identical, they only sounded similar on the phone. Alan was bigger, solid bulk and muscle with hair that rode the border between brown and auburn. Zephaniah had curls darker than his mother’s, with bright blue eyes like his dad. He was thinner, a little smaller than Darren, but Steve could see some muscle under his loose t-shirt. He and Alan shared Eleanore’s smile, and they were both taller than she was even though they were four years younger. Zephaniah came up to Steve’s chin, while the top of Alan’s head hit his cheek.

“It’s no problem,” Steve said, meeting Eleanore, Loki, and Alan in the hallway. 

“Zeph, let’s go throw stuff at it!” Alan exclaimed, rapping the shield with his knuckles.

“Tomorrow,” Elle said sternly, taking her louder cousin by the arm and leading him toward the stairs. “Let’s have supper first.”

“Okay,” Alan agreed happily, accepting her authority just as easily as he had over the phone.

“What’s the paint made of?” Zeph asked Steve quietly as they descended the stairs.

“It’s titanium dioxide,” Steve said. He knew that much. He knew a lot about his shield, actually. First Howard had explained vibranium’s qualities back in the forties, and then Darren had explained its refurbishing. New arm grips, new paint, and the youngest Stark was working on a device that would call the shield back to Steve when he threw it wrong.

There were two more bedrooms on the main floor and one bathroom down a hallway off the dining room. The basement had a little gate to prevent people from falling down its stairs right next to the dining room, toward the living room. There was also a lace curtain drawn over it that matched the kitchen windows and the double doors that led onto a large back deck that looked out over the valley.

Supper turned out to be roast beef, potatoes, and carrots all cooked in a large crock pot set on the kitchen’s large island. Steve saw where Elle and/or Lydia had come up with their barstools for their tiny island at home, from the backed wooden ones here. Everyone dished up and sat around the ovular wooden table. Steve and Loki were on one side while Eleanore sat on a bench between her two cousins, who both tried their hardest to steal food from time to time. June and Coleman sat at opposite ends, watching the kids and talking quietly with their guests.

Coleman told Steve to call him Cole, and asked him about his experience since waking up, which was a refreshing change from being asked about the War. Steve described it as best he could, giving Eleanore and Darren a lot of credit for teaching him about modern tech and ways of life. Loki was telling June about his Avengers status, which he seemed to have accepted, and about living with Eleanore in Lydia’s old room in the tiny apartment. He was surprisingly polite and kind to the older woman, even making jokes about Elle and Lydia that set her laughing.

The boys talked nonstop to Eleanore, catching her up on shared acquaintances, telling her about the class she would have graduated from if she hadn’t left a year early. They asked question after detailed question about what being an Avenger was like, how she fought, what Jet did, how many new flying techniques she’d learned, what weapons Darren invented for her. She answered in between bites of food, and watched the cat as it tried to avoid the friendly dog. Jet was lying in the living room, completely stretched out after their cramped ride.

Steve was feeling more and more weary the later it got. That frustrated him because he could usually go for days without sleep. Elle had said his healing would wear him out because his body metabolized so quickly. He ate two helpings of food, trying to give himself more fuel. Cole stopped asking him questions, and Steve settled gratefully into eating, drinking lots of water, listening to the conversations around him. It was warm and nice. His only family had been his mother, so meals were typically much quieter. No grunting like when Elle got fed up with the boys and poked them both in the sides, no reprimands from June for the twins to behave, no clicking of the regular dog’s nails on the floor. Steve thought its name was Dave, which was strange for a dog. It got tired of chasing Charlie around and sat between Steve and Cole, looking up at them with longing eyes.

“Don’t feed him,” Cole said. “He’s a beggar, but his food bowl’s full.”

Steve grinned and scratched the dog’s ears. There had been some nice curs in Europe. They followed the army camps, picking up scraps and befriending the men who fed them. Steve hadn’t gotten attached, though.

“Wanna go have a fire?” Alan asked excitedly as the meal wound down. 

Elle gave Steve the barest glance, then turned back to her cousin. “Maybe tomorrow. I’m exhausted from the drive.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just  exhausted ,” Alan said, his voice going high and funny. Eleanore laughed at it.  Family joke, Steve guessed.

“It’s your boys’ bedtime anyway,” June said. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Meh,” Alan protested vaguely. He and Zeph picked up their plates, and everyone else’s, and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“Can I help with anything, ma’am?” Steve asked June as she rose to supervise the cleaning. 

“You can go unpack,” she suggested. “These two won’t give you a moment’s rest after their chores are done.”

Steve smiled and went with Loki and Elle to the second floor, pulling his clothes out and arranging them in the top drawers of the dresser. Most of his clothing had been sent along, and it all fit in the slim compartments.  I still need to do some shopping.  His uniform was replaced, along with the knife gloves. He was thankful. The New York one was still hanging, ripped up, in his closet back home. 

“How are you feeling now?” Elle asked from his doorway. Her bedroom was the one on the other side of the loft, right next to a bathroom. There was a bathroom across the hall from Steve as well, and the twins’ large bedroom with a sturdy-looking bunk bed and two desks.

“Tired,” Steve said honestly. “But nothing a little sleep won’t fix.”

“We’ll rest tomorrow too,” Elle informed him, coming in and looking through the pockets of his new suit where it lay on the bed. “Do you find doing some farm work, though? The day after?”

“Of course not.” It actually sounded nice, after so much inactivity. It might be therapeutic, too. Slow, easy work to get his body back in shape. He’d be careful.

“Thanks. The materials will be delivered for fencing tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll take them out and get started the next morning.”

“Am I now a manual laborer?” Loki asked dryly, also coming into Steve’s bedroom. “I was never trained for menial tasks.”

“That’s okay,” Elle ignored his glare, as usual. “It’s really easy. I’m sure your superior brain can handle it.”

“Insolent mortal,” Loki scoffed disinterestedly. 

“Here’s your shield back.” Zephaniah stepped in, and the room was suddenly getting crowded. “If you don’t keep it in here, Alan and I will probably sneak out and test it tonight.”

“Thanks,” Steve took it back, lying it next to the head of his bed. Dave the dog came in and flopped on the floor, panting. There was almost no room to move. Steve stood next to the dresser, and Elle sat on the other side of his bed, looking at the knives on his gloves. Loki leaned against the wall next to the door, and before Steve knew it Alan was pushing Zeph further inside and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Party’s in here,” he commented. “We can go to the loft. More seating.”

“I actually think I’ll go to bed,” Elle said, replacing Steve’s uniform to its regular state. “Aunt June said you guys should, too.”

“Yes, Mom,” Alan quipped, earning a shove as Eleanore walked by. He exited the room, followed by his brother. “You gave him back the shield? Now we can’t test it til after school.”

“We’ll live,” Zeph replied patiently as they went into their room.

“I suppose this is goodnight,” Loki said, standing up straight and heading out as well. “I can only imagine what horrors await us tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it’ll be torture,” Steve said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Loki’s fake tragic expression. “You’ll face it better with some rest.”

“The same could be said of you.” Loki disappeared around the corner, and Steve heard his door shut.

He went out into the loft area, carrying his toothpaste and toothbrush. The twins had ducked into the hall bathroom a moment before, and Steve could hear shoving and splashing. He didn’t want to go in there after them. Instead he used what he assumed was formerly Eleanore and Lydia’s bathroom. It had a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink all in a space about the size of his bathroom at home. He was quick, knowing his teammates were likely waiting.

“Wipe the damn toilet seat.” The statement, made in a tired, exasperated, accepting voice greeted him as he opened the door. Eleanore was down the hall, standing in the light of the abandoned bathroom. “Alan, get back here. I know it was you.”

“Gonna run a DNA test?” the larger twin asked, winking as he walked by. He was out of sight for a second as Steve crossed the loft. Then he emerged again and messed his hand through Eleanore’s hair, earning a reflexive whack on the arm. “Night, Elle.”

“Night.” She looked back at Steve and smile-shrugged before aiming for the bathroom he’d just left. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Night, Elle,” June called over the loft’s wooden railing. It looked down on the living room and a tiny back area that had a piano and some bookshelves. “Boys, let Steve and Loki sleep.”

“Night, love you,” Elle yelled habitually and Alan yelled, “We will!” Then she looked back up at Steve, “Do you have water?”

“I can find it,” Steve assured her. “It comes from the sky, right?”

“Smartass,” she chided with a laugh. Charlie wandered up to her, and she picked him up. “Try to drink a few glasses tonight. At least three.”

“She even tells you how much water to drink?” Alan asked, skimming past them and heading down the stairs. “Whipped!”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Elle called after him.

“If you could stop shouting,” Loki appeared next to them, making Steve jump. “I was attempting to relax in my newest prison cell.”

“Sorry, it’s a big house,” Elle shrugged. “We’ll settle in a few minutes.”

“Of course you will,” Loki growled. He was in a bad mood again, for some reason.

“What’s wrong?” Elle asked.

“I went from a quiet prison to a loud one. I cannot believe I have a preference, but I do.” Loki frowned down at her, “And I am expected to be courteous to these people.”

“You like my mom. Aunt June isn’t that different. And Uncle Cole’s nice. Alan’s just loud,” Eleanore protested. “Look, we’re all tired. Why don’t you just try to rest?”

“I believe I have made my position on that clear,” Loki snarled. 

“And I said you’ll be able to sleep in a minute,” Elle asked, looking up at Loki calmly. “And why don’t you do a silencing spell? Anyway. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Steve said. He looked Loki over and found a seething demigod. “You going to be okay?”

“Go to sleep Captain,” Loki muttered, stalking back into his room and closing the door. Steve would have been willing to bet he put a silencing spell on it.

He went to his own room, with windows open slightly to let the cool night air in. Steve shut all but one, turning on the ceiling fan to its lowest setting. There were plenty of blankets on his bed, and he felt thankful to slide into soft, clean-smelling sheets. His memories and flashbacks were held at bay by the day’s events. Had SHIELD found the terrorist? Had he become connected to something bigger? Was Lydia safe? Would Darren, Tony, and Bruce fight? 

He checked his phone and found a message from Hill.  “Still just observing. Will inform of any status changes.” He texted his thanks, lying back and relaxing tired muscles. There was no use in worrying about it now. Instead, he’d focus on keeping Loki occupied and in a good mood tomorrow. That would be a job in itself.

For now, though, the room was dark and quiet. Alan’s footsteps walked by and the twins bedroom door closed. Chickens clucked somewhere outside. The moon made crosshatched shadows on the carpet. 

Steve closed his eyes. The smell of lilacs wafted gently on a breeze. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled into sleep.


	22. "Farming Thunder"

Steve slept really well that night, thanks to a relaxing day and his body’s focus on healing. He fell asleep to the smell of lilacs again and woke to the scent of roasting chicken. June had placed two mostly-frozen birds in the oven to slow-cook the night before as Steve had chugged five glasses of water and talked to her. Apparently chicken noodle soup was an easy dinner to make, and the boys liked it after a day of hard work outside.   
Now it was four AM, and no one else was awake. Steve made a quick, quiet trip to the bathroom and went back into his room to check his phone. Hill reported more observation, and Lydia asked how things were going at the farm. Steve replied to both of them, a thank-you and a description respectively.   
He thought things were going very well overall. Loki was gradually settling down a bit in his behavior, and everyone was unwinding. Eleanore was happy to be with her family, and the twins seemed to love having everyone around. Cole and June didn’t seem too put-out dealing with an extra demigod and super soldier. Steve had asked about that the night before, hinting at his willingness to help pay for food, and June had laughed and told him that he and Loki ate less than the twins’ high school friends who were a nearly constant presence in the large house.   
Steve felt a lot stronger today, although he wasn’t about to take off and sprint his typical miles without someone as backup. Lesson learned, there. Instead, he opened his windows all the way and listened to the myriad of birds waking in the trees as dawn started graying the landscape and the clear sky. Stars winked out of existence, and the moon had set long ago.   
Steve took a seat on the floor, the bed at his back, and tried meditating as Bruce had suggested once. The trick was to clear one’s mind, which took practice. Steve figured early morning when no one was awake to make noise and distract him was as good a time as any, and it was a good way to start his day. It started out okay because breathing was easy, and he managed a few minutes of focus at a time before his thoughts started up and derailed onto the things he had to worry about. His team, his reactions, his nightmares. Breathing, damn it. His lungs felt good as they filled fully and exhaled every last bit of air. His shoulders relaxed, and he kept his back straight, and his posture was correct because he could control his body, if not his mind. He kept up the effort for about an hour, retracing himself once he realized his focus slipped.   
The twins’ door opened and closed, effectively freeing Steve from the task. He listened, expecting a bathroom trip or something, but Alan’s footsteps continued across the loft and his voice greeted Eleanore and got a muffled reply. It sounded like she was already awake. Steve rose and stretched, drinking the last of the water from the large bottle June had lent him for the night. He took it with him as he walked into the hallway, knowing it was the first question Elle was likely to ask.  
“Morning, Steve.” She was seated on the floor like he had been, only her laptop and notebook were open in her lap. Alan was lying sideways across her bed, the cat on his stomach, staring at the ceiling. He tilted his head back and looked upside-down at the newcomer. Elle looked Steve over, “You getting enough water?”  
“Morning,” Steve greeted them both, holding up the empty bottle with a smile. “Is there an assignment?”  
“Top secret,” Alan informed him seriously. “I’m not allowed to see.”  
“Fury wants a status update, so I’m typing it up quick,” Elle clarified. “He wants one from you, too, but I didn’t know if you were awake or what.”  
“I was meditating,” Steve informed her, retrieving his laptop from her backpack and opening it.   
“I didn’t know you did that.” Elle was fixated on her screen, but she could half-listen to what other people said.  
“I just tried it out. I think I need some practice.” Steve found the email from Fury and started typing up a quick report for the last week or so, citing how Loki’s behavior was already improving and how he’d voluntarily helped save Steve’s life more than once and protected Eleanore as well. It was more than encouraging. Steve just hoped SHIELD could leave well enough alone as Loki continued to get better, letting Eleanore and Steve handle him one-on-one without direct orders. Loki responded better to requests, and he helped a lot more if left to his own devices. Fury’s email still contained evidence of a grudge against the demigod, and disbelief about mind control. It would hurt everyone if someone like that started ordering Loki around.  
It only took about fifteen minutes for Steve to type everything up. Elle was done long before that, and she and Alan talked quietly about the day ahead, breakfast plans, whether the twins would come for a quick run.   
“…If I have to,” Alan groaned, rubbing his eyes. “It’s our day off from weights.”  
“You don’t have to,” Elle corrected him. “Steve and Loki and I can just go.”  
“I’ll do it if you race me,” Alan decided, rolling onto his stomach and grinning a challenge at his cousin. “I’m taller than you now. Bet I can win.”  
“We’ll see,” Eleanore returned. “Get out of my room so I can get dressed.”  
Steve followed the command as well, donning exercise clothes in his bedroom and meeting the twins and Loki as they emerged into the hallway at the same time.   
“Can you show us how to use your shield later today?” Zeph asked drowsily, gulping from a plastic water bottle.  
“Sure,” Steve said. “This afternoon, once we get done with fencing.” Loki stayed quiet, looking like he’d just woken up as well.  
Elle joined them then, and they all trooped down the stairs and out the front door into the early morning light. They made their way carefully down the steep, rocky driveway, and Steve decided on a slow pace to always keep Eleanore and the twins in sight. It wasn’t just for his own protection; he was still worried about the terrorist or whoever he’d found to work for finding them even out in this peaceful countryside.  
“Race?” Alan prodded, nudging his brother.  
“I’ll race at the end, from that big tree back to the driveway,” Elle said, pointing to a spot about a quarter mile away. “If we sprint too early, we’ll just be tired.”  
“Fine.” Alan rolled his eyes, and Zephaniah shrugged.   
“Are you feeling up to speed, Rogers?” Loki asked, taking a deep breath as they reached the bottom of the hill.  
“Maybe.” The slow-pace plan flew out the window. Steve couldn’t resist the implied challenge. “I’ll try to keep up, at least.”  
“Watch your heart rate,” Elle said lightly. “I think you’ll be okay, just be smart. Stop if you need to.”  
“Got it. I will.” Steve smiled over at Loki, and they took off, only the twins’ shouts of surprise catching their ears as they ran into the rising sunlight.  
Loki was fast. Steve had to stretch himself out to keep up, and he pushed further as the dark-haired man let out a laugh and picked up the pace. Steve watched his own breathing, finding his old strength there when he needed it, and more in reserve. Days of rest had energized him again. He loosened up, his muscles singing, and went even faster until the grass and wildflowers in the ditches blurred past and he started feeling serious air resistance despite the calm morning. They were miles away from Elle and her cousins, several hills blocking their view.  
“Okay, okay,” Steve gasped, halting at the top of an incline after about ten minutes had passed. “We should go back.”  
“Now we shall truly race,” Loki said, grinning and starting back without warning.   
“Hey!” Steve shouted, taking off after the demigod with renewed vigor. He barely managed to catch up, and he and Loki were straining neck-and-neck as they passed the cousins about a mile and a half away from the house. They were heading back, running together in a line, with Zeph leading, then Elle, and Alan brought up the rear.  
“That’s not being careful!” Elle called after them, but they just ran harder.   
Steve took a deep breath as he saw the driveway looming ahead, and made himself push harder. Loki did the same, and they ended up crossing the ‘finish line’ at around the same time, panting for air as they finally slowed down.   
“That was great,” Steve said, wiping sweat from his face and turning to walk back to the driveway to wait for Eleanore and the twins to return.   
“It was certainly something,” Loki agreed vaguely. “I did not know you were capable of such high speeds.”  
“Do your research,” Steve goaded him, earning an eye roll. He leaned against one of the large boulders set on either side of the drive, catching his breath. Loki stood, arms crossed, doing the same. Steve looked at the wildflowers growing on the side of the road. There were light bluish-purple ones and yellow daisies with black middles standing above little white fan-flowers that grew on viney stems. It added natural beauty to the plain white gravel of the road.  
“Here they come,” Loki said quietly. Steve turned his attention to the east, where Elle and her cousins were running over the last hill. They stopped when they reached the agreed upon tree, and Zeph sprinted ahead to the driveway. He was pretty quick, his long legs and thin frame giving him an advantage.  
“If I don’t clock them, they’ll argue about it for the rest of the day,” he explained, pulling his phone from his pocket and pulling up a stopwatch. He raised his other hand and dropped it, and Eleanore and Alan took off, running full tilt over the rocky ground. Alan was fast, but Elle pulled ahead right at the end, flashing past Steve and Loki before she stopped a little ways down the road, grinning in triumph and dodging Alan as he nearly barreled into her.   
“Still got it,” she said, approaching Zephaniah and looking at her time. She was a second ahead of Alan, a clear winner.   
“Next you can race with us,” Loki offered with a snide grin.  
“Or I could just keep my lungs intact,” Elle suggested, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Come on, we need to eat breakfast and get out to the back pasture. How’s your heart, Steve?”  
“It’s good,” Steve replied, following the boys up the driveway. He felt better than he had in days, even after the intense run. His legs were especially warmed up, but the rest of him was alive and awake and ready to take on the day. “Wasn’t stuff supposed to be delivered yesterday?”  
“It’s out in the field already,” Alan informed him. “We’ll drive the vehicles along and unload supplies as we need them.”  
“Elle, are we packing a lunch?” Zeph asked.  
“Yeah, I think so,” Eleanore responded from where she walked between Steve and Loki. “Go change and we can figure it out over breakfast.”  
The twins obeyed, racing each other into the house (Zeph won) and returning as Steve and Loki and Eleanore made it to the kitchen, wearing ripped up jeans and holey t-shirts and brown clomping boots. June was cooking scrambled eggs and bacon, and there were five glasses of chocolate milk set out on the island. Elle headed upstairs, probably to change.   
“Thank you, ma’am.” Steve took a plate full of food and one of the glasses. He sat at the dining room table, and the twins followed him over, Zeph sitting beside him and Alan taking the end seat his mother had occupied at the first supper. Loki paused at the counter and drew his hand over his body, changing into the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn the day before. Steve guessed he was less attached to his Earth clothes than he was to his Asgard ones.  
“That’s awesome!” Alan exclaimed around a mouthful of bacon.   
“Just a bit of magic.” Loki faked modesty badly, sitting on the bench with his own plate and beverage.   
“Listen up, men,” June said, leaning on the back of Alan’s chair and meeting everyone else’s eyes. “We’ve got plenty of gloves for everyone, and you’re expected to use them. The wooden posts have sap on them that’s a really powerful carcinogen— it can cause cancer. Don’t touch it, and shower as soon as you come back inside. Understand?”  
“Yes ma’am.” Steve frowned, wondering if this family was especially worried about cancer because of Lydia and Sandy. Was it hereditary? Would June or Eleanore or the boys get it? Questions he’d never thought of started popping up and worrying him. Lydia’s illness was bad enough, but the thought of watching Elle die that young turned the eggs in his mouth to ash.  
“We have extra boots, too,” June continued as Eleanore came into the kitchen and got herself some breakfast, wearing a tank top and some loose jeans that were cinched with a belt at high on her waist. Her hair was coiled into a tight braid that fell down her back and swung when she moved. “They’re out in the mudroom with Elle’s work boots. You can try them on, see if any fit. They’ll protect your toes from drops. And Zeph, grab the sunscreen.”  
“Okay,” Zeph said, finishing his food. “Want me to start making sandwiches or whatever?”  
“That would be helpful,” June said, handing him lunch meat and cheese slices from the fridge and setting little plastic bags and a loaf of bread out for him. “I’ll get the cooler.”  
“I can help too,” Steve said, standing and putting his plate in the sink for lack of a better option. It was scraped clean, and could go right in the dishwasher, but he didn’t know if it had been unloaded. “What can I do?”  
“Help make sandwiches,” Zeph said. “We need like ten, probably. Can you get the butter from the fridge?”  
“Sure.” Steve found the ‘spreadable butter with canola oil’ and got a knife from the silverware drawer. The butter was not really spreadable, and it took a long time to get each slice of bread covered evenly. Still, he and Zeph made progress, and the sandwiches piled up: turkey and ham with cheddar cheese. Charlie meowed around their feet until Zeph gave him a scrap of turkey. June brought out a cooler about the size of Steve’s chest with a shoulder strap, and they packed ice and water bottles and red Powerade in the bottom of it before putting the sandwiches in a Tupperware container on top, along with a couple large bags of potato chips. They wouldn’t starve.  
When lunch was packed and the others had finished breakfast, Steve went upstairs and put on one of the only pairs of jeans he had, along with one of his looser white cotton t-shirts. He liked his ‘breathable fabric’ exercise shirts, so he wanted to avoid ripping them. He could buy more, of course, and he’d likely need another pair of jeans after this week, but he liked keeping his things as nice as possible.  
“Those are my old jeans, aren’t they?” Alan was asking from the white-tiled entrance room, apparently called a mudroom.   
“Yep,” Elle answered, handing Loki a pair of boots from a tall coat closet. “Try those. Steve, here’s a pair of twelves.” She knew his shoe size from helping him order online. Elle remembered things like that.   
“Thanks.” Steve tried the stiff-toed, dark brown leather boots on, tucking his pant legs into them as he saw Eleanore was doing. They were fairly comfortable, and they reminded him of his old army shoes from the forties.  
She tossed him a colorful, patterned piece of cloth as well, like the ones she had tied around her hair and wrist. It was a bandanna, like the cowboys from old west movies wore to cover their faces. “For wiping sweat off.” Steve stuck it in his back pocket.  
“Wonderful,” Loki commented dryly, taking the one she handed him as well. He still tied it to his wrist, apparently anticipating the hot day in the sun.  
“Do you guys want baseball caps?” Alan asked, putting one on his own head. It was camouflage-colored, with the letters ‘ABH’ stitched in orange across the front. Loki declined with a shake of his head.  
“Sure,” Steve said, accepting a plain tan one that looked and felt brand new. He adjusted it to his head and turned to June for inspection. “Good enough?”  
“You look like a real farmer boy,” she said with a smile. “Boys, don’t horse around with the barbed wire. And make sure the steeples are straight. And watch the weather. There’s a chance of storms this afternoon.”  
“We will,” Zeph assured her.   
Alan just rolled his eyes and grinned. “I call driving the pickup out.”  
“Oh no, no, no,” Eleanore said, shaking her head emphatically. “I’m not sitting in the back of that thing while you try mudding.”  
“But I called it,” Alan insisted. “Can’t I drive, Mom?”  
“He’s gotten a lot better, Elle,” June said with a wince. “If he’s bad, you don’t have to let him drive back.”  
“You’ll be fine, sissy,” Alan gave Elle a gentle shove, which she reciprocated. Steve wondered if June had just signed their death warrants.  
When Elle had said the back of the truck, she’d meant the very back. She, Steve, and Loki held on for dear life, keeping the buckets of nails and ‘steeples’ and tools like wire stretchers and fencing pliers and mallets from flying out as they crossed every bump the pastures had to offer. Zeph rode in the two-seater cab with Alan, and he jumped out and opened and closed the gates as they came to them. The truck went pretty slowly, and cows started following it curiously, their red and black hair shining in the sun. A few were black with white spots, like the pictures Steve had seen in books as a kid. He’d never been very close to livestock, unless you counted the horses still used in the War. Elle knew a few of the animals by name. Ronny, Pink, Red, Fuchsia, Bean, Phantom. Ronny and Bean were all black, while Fuchsia, Red, and Pink were all similar shades of brownish red. Phantom was pure white, and in an enclosure with a few other female cows, supposedly creating more babies. Elle said he was the nicest bull they’d ever had. Steve reserved his judgment of that, as the truck stopped next to a trailer full of fencing supplies and the large animal meandered over.  
Elle jumped out of the pickup immediately, walking over to the bull and talking to him like she talked to Charlie. “Oh, Phantom, who’s a good baby. Tum mere, good boy.” Phantom stopped as she started scratching his back right where his shoulder met his neck. “Does that feel good, huh boy? Ew, dammit, stop licking me.” She returned with white hair on her arms and cow slobber all over her jeans. “He’s just like a giant dog.”  
“Dad says his next boy calf is staying a bull,” Alan said, taking the bucket of tools Steve handed over the truck’s side. “Especially if it’s a white one.”  
“He’s only three years old,” Elle said, frowning. Steve guessed that was young for a cow. Bull. Whatever. She sprayed sunscreen on, then passed it around until everyone was covered in SPF 30 protection. Loki even accepted it, wiping the stuff on his cheeks and nose and ears. Maybe he burned easily.  
“How do you milk all of them?” Steve asked, jumping to the ground.  
“We don’t. These are meat cows, not dairy.” Zeph seemed to take Steve’s misinformed question in stride. Steve felt a little embarrassed at not knowing that simple fact, but he’d grown up in Brooklyn, far from any cows, and his War tour hadn’t included much talk of cattle.  
As they dug the posts out of the ground one by one, Steve learned more about ‘meat cows’ than he’d ever needed to know. This particular breed was called Maine-Anjou, and they were classified as short-horns. Their horns were removed when they were very young in a process Alan described as ‘grueling’. Steers were castrated bull calves, and heifers were females that hadn’t had a calf yet. Cows had had one or more babies. Red was a cow, and Pink and Fuchsia, her daughters, were both heifers, although Pink was pregnant and due any time. Eleanore called Pink ‘Punk’ because the heifer had kicked her more than once. Alan and Zeph showed their choice cattle, currently pastured closest to the house, at the county fair, and they’d gotten to the Iowa State Fair once each in the past two years. Good-quality steers that won county and state fairs were sold for upwards of four thousand dollars, while the average ones that were kept in their own pasture usually went for under a thousand.   
“That’s why beef is so expensive to buy,” Elle explained as Alan wound down the informational monologue. The kid was really knowledgeable about the farm stuff, segueing into topics Steve didn’t know he didn’t know. “And that’s why we also grow crops instead of just using all the land as pasture.”  
“We stick the cows on the clayish soil so they can fertilize it,” Zeph added.   
“They seem to be doing a wonderful job of that,” Loki commented, eyeing the manure that pockmarked the churned grass.  
During the hour or so of cow information, Steve had also learned about removing old wooden fence posts, most of which were badly rotted, and taking steeples (two-pronged, curved nails) out to be reused. The panels that Elle and the twins deemed acceptable were placed in one pile while twisted or broken ones were put in another. A wooden post held up the end of each panel, and they overlapped. Two metal posts were driven into the ground for support in between and wired to the panels so nothing could get in or out. Progress was slow, but Steve and Loki picked up the technique and started moving faster. The demigod worked quietly, uncomplaining, even when one of the cows approached him and he had to push it out of the way, or when his hair kept falling out of its slicked-back style and into his eyes. He and Steve were both able to just throw the metal posts in the ground, which impressed the twins a lot.  
The work was tough, but it was fun, too. Alan played music on the truck’s speakers, and Steve learned some things from the eighties and seventies, and Elle requested a band called ‘Queen,’ which was great. The twins kept up a nearly constant storyline of things they wanted to tell Eleanore about, and she listened and gave them advice for dealing with the struggles of modern high school life.  
Zeph was already fielding offers from colleges and universities. He asked about ones out East, specifically near New York, and Elle gave him a run-down and promised to hook him up with a Stark Industries internship for his first summer.  
Alan was kind-of-maybe-but-not-quite dating a girl one town over, but they were having relationship problems. “She had this jerk-wad boyfriend, who’s a senior, but she said she wanted to break up with him.”  
“So did she?” Elle asked.  
“Yeah, she texted me last night and said, ‘I broke up with Derek’.”   
“So what did you say to that?”  
“I said, ‘That sucks,’ and went to sleep.”  
“You’re joking.” Elle started laughing when Alan looked up from digging a stubborn steeple out of a post. Steve and Loki even chuckled along at the clueless look on his face. “Alan, you did not do that.”  
“Even I know you messed up,” Zeph commented, hammering a new panel into place further down the line.  
“What? I replied, at least.” Alan looked around, frowning at them, then smiled along with the laughter. “What’d I do?”  
“She wanted you to talk to her about it,” Elle explained, still giggling. “You were supposed to say, ‘Oh sweetie are you okay’”  
“I was tired,” Alan reiterated, shaking his head. “It was midnight, for god’s sake. She wants me to stay up and sympathize?”  
“Yep,” Elle confirmed, wiping her eyes with the bandanna on her wrist. “But fifteen’s a little young for serious relationships. Maybe you dodged a bullet.”  
“What do you know, you’ve only dated like one guy. And you were barely seventeen,” Alan went back to destroying the fence, and Steve helped him wrench the steeple-free post from the ground.   
“Because I know what I want,” Elle retorted, smiling.   
“So have you heard from her since?” Steve asked to be polite. He handed the rotten post over to Loki, who threw it over the truck into the trash pile.   
“Nope,” Alan grumbled. “Guess I have to apologize now.”  
“Not if you do not wish to pursue a relationship,” Loki spoke up, setting a fresh post into the ground and spreading gravel around it.   
“I do, though. Chick’s hot,” Alan tamped down the gravel until the post held steady.  
“And everyone knows hotness is the true measure of worth,” Eleanore said sarcastically, holding a panel for Zeph to secure.  
“Don’t be bitter just ‘cause Us Magazine called you fat,” Alan teased, earning a real glare from his cousin.  
“Says the teenage boy reading Us Magazine,” Elle snorted.   
“It was on the cover in the Walmart checkout line,” Zeph said. “But the online comments on those speculation websites are worse. Don’t read them.”  
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Elle said, heading over to the white truck that pulled the trailer of supplies. “I’m gonna pull this ahead.”  
“Does your media have nothing better to do than comment on people’s weight?” Loki asked curiously.   
“Not all people, just women,” Zeph said quietly.   
“Don’t start on that feminist crap,” Alan begged. “You’ll get Elle going, and we won’t hear the end of it all day.”  
“It’s not really crap,” Steve said, thinking back to the forties when Peggy got harassed just walking across camp. Even his mother had been catcalled on her way to and from work and the grocery store and every public place she’d gone. Steve had gotten into more than one pre-serum fight against guys who treated women badly in front of him. “It’s a matter of equality.”  
“Elle got to you first,” Alan groaned. “Captain America’s a feminazi.”  
“Al, you’re an idiot,” Zeph said as Steve straightened and glared at the larger boy.  
“I’ve fought people over less,” he said, using his threatening, angry voice. “Some of them were Nazis.”  
“What are Nazis?” Loki asked, stepping between Steve and Alan and putting another metal fence post in the ground. “The term seems familiar. A mortal enemy of yours, Rogers?”  
“Something like that,” Steve said, knowing and appreciating that the other man was trying to de-escalate a situation. How the tables had turned. He wouldn’t really have fought the kid, though. He just wanted to make him think a little. “They tried to take over the world back in the forties, and I was on the other side of the War against them.”  
“Would that be any affiliation with Hydra?” Loki asked. “And would you get some gravel for this?”  
Steve did, tamping the rock down with enough force to crack the wooden tamping rod. “Damn. Yeah, Hydra was an offshoot.”  
Loki took the broken stick and magicked it back together before Steve’s eyes. “I learned about them while I was browsing your history one day,” he said. “The Internet is a wonderful source of information.”  
“It sure is,” Elle said, coming back from the truck and handing out bottles of cold water. She looked back at the length of fence they’d done: the north and east sides. It was about two thirty in the afternoon, but Steve had felt full from the big breakfast. “I’d say we can break for lunch.”  
Steve felt his anger evaporate as they all sat on the trailer, gloves abandoned, feet swinging in the tall grass, eating delicious sandwiches and drinking Powerade. Jet arrived, leaping over the fences with ease and plopping himself in the sun to bask. The black and white cat followed a few minutes later, meowing until Zeph set it in his lap and petted it. They said its name was Cat, the Farm Wanderer. Birds with wings like arrows chased each other sharply around the field, sometimes almost dive-bombing their group. Elle called them Barn Swallows and said they plucked bugs out of the air as they flew around. There were almost no clouds in the sky, just a few cumulus ones to the west. The opinion of a teenage boy seemed tiny in comparison to the beautiful day going on around them.  
“But women aren’t as strong as men,” Alan mused into the peaceful silence.   
Steve sighed. Guess I relaxed too soon.  
“What are you on about now?” Elle asked, annoyed.   
“Steve got mad about feminism, and I was just saying that it’s a proven fact that women are weaker than men.”  
“God damn it,” Eleanore’s voice contained resigned exasperation, like when Charlie knocked something off the coffee table. “Why are you trying to make him mad again? How is that a good idea for you?”  
“I’m just debating, like you always tell me to do.” Alan was unapologetic, just like when he found out what that young lady really wanted him to say.   
“Look, son,” Steve started, realizing too late he’d switched into Captain America mode. “Who beat you in that race this morning?”  
“That’s Elle, though. I can beat any girl in my class. So can Zeph.”  
“Keep me out of it,” Zephaniah said, shaking his head. “You’ve been wrong on this for years.”  
Steve was about to continue the argument when Elle put a hand on his arm. “You’ll change your mind when you go to college.”  
“I’m not going to college,” Alan informed her. “I’m going to be a Marine sniper.”  
“No.” Elle lost the easy frustration, and transformed into a tense, angry version of herself. “No you’re not.”  
“Why not?” Alan challenged.  
“You don’t need to go learn how to kill people and get sent overseas and ordered around and broken into something new and brainwashed, to return here all PTSD, if you get home alive.” Steve and Loki both turned to look at her as she vehemently defended her opinion. Steve realized she was scared for her cousin, who was more like a little brother. She wanted him to be safe.  
“You’re such a hypocrite,” Alan said, also getting angry. “You’ve known how to kill people since you were seven. You’re an Avenger.”  
“The Marines don’t care about soldiers like our team cares about each other,” Elle insisted. “You’re just a body to them. If you’re going to join up, use your brain and be an engineer or drone flier or something.”  
“Really? This in front of Captain America, the super soldier.”   
“She’s right about value,” Steve said. “That’s why I stayed with SHIELD. We keep people alive. Protect them.” He noticed Loki’s eyes focus on something distantly behind him. He turned and saw cumulonimbus clouds building up in the northwest. “Weather’s moving in.”  
“It is a violent storm,” Loki said. “And it is moving quickly.”  
“Let’s secure these last two panels and head home,” Zeph said, holding his phone up for everyone to see. A radar image of a large red and pink mass edged with green and yellow extended off the ends of the screen. “People are reporting tornadoes with this one.”  
“Tornadoes?” Steve asked, leaping down to follow the instructions. The East Coast got hurricanes, sure, but he’d never seen a tornado.   
“They occur in storms with significant rotation,” Elle said, switching into information mode. “The rotation is usually horizontal, but it can get so strong it turns and reaches the ground, causing varied damage depending on strength. Zeph, what were they rated?”  
“Unconfirmed,” her younger cousin answered, yanking steeples out as quickly as he could. “But some people reported anywhere from half to five mile long trails. Maybe F3.”  
“It goes F1 to F5, five being the worst,” Elle continued, putting a new post in as Loki yanked the old one out. “Hail reports, Zeph?”  
“Big,” he replied. “Golf ball to baseball.”  
“Baseball sized hail?” Steve asked incredulously.   
“Yeah, we need to get inside.” This was her battle attitude: focused and calm.   
“I can transport us back easily,” Loki offered, holding a post with gloved hands as Steve tamped gravel down.  
“Thanks, but we have to get the trucks back. Al, unhook the trailer.” Argument apparently forgotten, Eleanore took charge of her cousins again, and they listened. She put the last steeple in their post, and Zeph finished at the same time. “You boys ride together in the white one, and I’ll drive the red one behind you.”  
“Don’t forget to lock the gates,” Zeph cautioned, gathering the tools into the bucket as a blast of cool wind flattened the grass. The storm was close enough for Steve to make out lightning and thunder clearly. The breeze smelled like clean rain. Jet rose and started back toward the house, apparently not concerned with Elle’s safety.   
The twins got the trailer unhooked and took off. Steve, Loki, and Eleanore squeezed into the red pickup’s bench seat and sped behind them, jolting over lumps in the landscape. Steve held onto the door handle to keep from bouncing all over, and Loki braced one arm on the seat behind Eleanore and put his other hand on the ceiling. Steve was on the outer side, so he got out and closed the gates securely behind them, rushing back and jumping back in once, twice, three times until they were on the dirt road that led them a mile back to the farm house. The clouds rolled over the sun and the temperature dropped drastically on the truck’s rear-view mirror display: from eighty-two degrees to seventy-five in two minutes.   
“I’ll park this in the big barn,” Elle informed them as the first raindrops started pattering the windshield. “Then I’ll pull our car in behind it.”  
“No time,” Steve said. “It’s bulletproof. It can take some hail.”  
“Look at the blue in those clouds,” Elle said, looking in the mirror. “That means ice.”  
It was the same color the underside of the icebergs had been as Steve’s eyes caught his last glimpses of freezing sunlight reflected through them, but he wasn’t going to bring that up. “It’s almost here,” he said instead.   
“Get the door,” Eleanore said, and Steve jumped out into the rain, pulling the barn door open and flinching against the rain and flashes of lightning. Elle parked the truck and turned it off, yelling something unintelligible over the rain pounding on the metal roof.  
“What?” Steve asked, already soaked through.   
Elle and Loki approached him, and Elle repeated herself, “Loki said he can get us through the hail.”  
“Thanks!” Steve hollered at the demigod, who was glancing around at the wind-whipped trees and heavy rain.   
“It will be dangerous,” Loki said. “The energy may draw lightning. We must move quickly.”  
Steve looked out at the football field’s worth of lawn they had to cross. The boys reached the door and got inside. The hail was golf-ball sized now, falling at his feet. He and Loki could survive that, but it would hurt Eleanore. He wished for his shield. “Any other ideas?”  
“Just a run for it,” Loki said. “Any magic at all might have the same result. If I transported us into the house or summoned something physical here, the buildings would certainly be struck.”  
“Let’s go, then!” Elle said. “Sooner the better.”  
“No magic?” Loki confirmed.  
“Go ahead and use it,” Steve said, resigned. “Elle, you have to sprint.”  
They ended up rushing in a hunched over, huddled trio under the smallest energy umbrella Loki could make that would shelter them all. Things were going well, and Steve’s feet weren’t even getting wet thanks to the high boots. He had his arm around Elle’s shoulders, an instinct from time spent protecting people with his shield. They got halfway across the yard in no time. Then Steve felt Loki’s hand on his back, and he and Eleanore were launched face-first into the grass and mud just as a bolt descended from the sky with a deafening peal.  
Steve couldn’t see or hear anything for a few seconds, but his vision returned first, along with the perception of hail thumping against his body harshly. Then Loki swam into view, hair weirdly sticking out everywhere, lifting him by the arm and pushing him toward the house. Steve went, noting Loki picking Eleanore up off the ground as well and half-carrying her because he was running so fast. Steve kept up with him as the drumming rain gradually registered in his hearing, and they reached the porch and went inside to the warm light of electricity that wasn’t trying to kill them.  
“Christ, are you guys okay?” Alan asked, grabbing towels off the dryer and handing them over. Steve took one and ruffled it over his hair, actually chilled from the air conditioning and the rain. He was also dripping mud everywhere, appropriate for the mudroom. A towel wasn’t going to fix that.  
“Loki?” Elle was asking, her voice a bit loud. Her hearing was probably still returning, too. Loki didn’t respond until she grabbed his arm. “Are you hurt?”  
“My hearing is gone!” the demigod nearly shouted, making everyone jump. He looked around, noting their reactions and continued at a normal volume. “This has happened before. It will return.”  
Elle held up a silver-lighted hand questioningly, and he nodded, letting her place her palms on either side of his frizzy head. When she took her hands away, Loki looked at the ceiling. “Whatever baseballs are, they could wake all the souls in Hel.”  
“Did you get hit?” Steve asked, drying himself some more as June walked in with more towels.   
“Oh my god, did you get struck by lightning?” she asked, going straight to Loki and raising a hand to his hair, which was getting bigger and frizzier as it dried.  
“I am unharmed,” Loki said, pulling back and accepting a towel.   
June looked him over, then Steve and Eleanore, and then turned back to Loki. “Well, your hair’s fried. I can give you a quick cut if you want.”  
Loki considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, I would appreciate that.”  
“Okay. You three get your clothes from upstairs quick, and then come back to the main floor in case we need to get to the basement. We’ll watch the radar from here.” June headed into the kitchen, not waiting for a reply.   
Steve, Loki, and Eleanore kicked their shoes off and moved to obey. They all closed the upstairs windows against the intruding water. Steve got another t-shirt and a soft jacket and a pair of jeans and socks before grabbing his shield as well. If the house was blown away, at least he wouldn’t have to go looking for it. He met Eleanore carrying her backpack and a change of clothing, and Loki followed them down the stairs silently.  
When he got back to the kitchen, June was pulling the chickens out of the oven and putting a pot of noodles on the stove. There was another towel and a paint-stained white sheet folded on the island with wireless clippers sitting on top of them.  
“You can change in the music room,” she said. “Loki can go in the mudroom, and Elle can use the bathroom.”  
Steve found the music room easily at the end of the hall, right across from June and Cole’s bedroom. It had every instrument imaginable, from a violin to a trumpet to a drum set. Steve changed hastily, since there wasn’t a door on this room. He felt a lot better and warmer with dry clothes on, his socks protecting him from the cold of the floor. “Can you play all these?” he asked June as he emerged with his muddy garments in hand.   
“Cole can,” she replied. “He taught the kids guitar and some others. Alan likes the drums and the trumpet, and Zeph’s great at the violin. Elle plays the piano.”  
“Did Loki really get struck by lightning?” Alan asked, thumping down the stairs in a new outfit of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Zeph followed dressed similarly.   
“Not directly,” Loki said, coming out of the mudroom. “I’ve become adept at dodging it, over the years.”  
“Because you know Thor?” Zeph asked.  
“Precisely,” Loki said, not tensing up at the mention of his adopted brother. Steve hoped the boys wouldn’t pursue that topic.   
“Thanks for getting us out of the way,” he said, drawing the attention to himself.  
“I live to serve,” Loki said lightly.   
June had set up a folding chair on top of the sheet in the open space between the kitchen and dining room. “I can cut your hair now, if you want.”  
“Certainly.” Loki sat down gracefully, looking kind of odd with his large mane bobbing in the air. Alan stifled a chuckle, and Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “I would see you looking so jovial after meeting with the fury of a storm.”  
“Sorry,” the boy said, settling himself at the table. “You look cool with a ‘fro.”  
“No lies, please.” Loki closed his eyes as June put a towel around his shoulders and neck and started clipping.   
“Thanks for literally kicking my ass, Loki,” Elle said, coming to stand beside Steve. He looked down at her, not really believing what he was hearing.  
Loki smiled genuinely and really laughed, making June pause as his head moved around. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I claimed it was unintentional.”  
“I do, actually,” Elle said. She looked up at Steve and explained, “I think he ran out of hands, pushing you out of the way and holding the energy up, so I got the boot.”  
“Exactly,” Loki agreed, holding still again.   
Steve chuckled at the image, recalling how Elle had flown in front of him to land first in the puddles. The twins joined in, and soon everyone was lost in giggles as thunder rumbled the walls and rain hit the west windows. Charlie and Jet descended the stairs, skirting around the shaking twins. Charlie headed for Loki and jumped into his lap, curling up immediately. The laughing felt good, warming Steve from the inside out.   
“Alright, alright,” June said. “Let’s get your hair done before the power goes out.”  
“This realm has a terrible problem with that,” Loki said, allowing her to continue. She worked quickly, cutting the sides of his head shorter and leaving it a little bit longer on top. The hair closer to his head wasn’t as fried, instead curling as June ran her fingers through it. Even though Steve was watching it happen, he had trouble getting used to this new, very human-looking Loki brushing hair off the cat in his lap. It was just weird.  
“Are we playing salon?” Cole asked from behind them.   
“You could be playing an instrument,” June replied. “Steve liked your collection.”  
Her husband walked back down the hallway and went into the music room, returning a moment later with the violin. “I take requests.”  
“Play a metal song,” Alan suggested.  
“I take requests from guests,” Cole amended. “Anything? Steve? Loki?”  
“Old hymns,” Elle suggested, sitting on the steps at Alan’s knee.   
“Good choice, Steve,” Cole said sarcastically, drawing the bow up and closing his eyes. Are Ye Able stoked memories of sunny Sunday mornings and dusty hymnals. Cole added flourishes to keep the song’s repetitive melody interesting, but Steve liked it best when he just played the regular notes. It would have sounded even better on a piano, like the old Methodist church had. The violin still sounded beautiful, though.  
“Sorry to interrupt the concert, but we should be watching the radar,” June said, sweeping hair from Loki’s shoulder with her hand. She pointed at Alan, and then a cupboard that sat in the corner of the dining room. The boy reached back and opened it, revealing a TV that he tuned to the local weather station. There was a tornado watch for their county, but that didn’t seem to worry any of the Iowa natives, so Steve just listened absently to the reported destruction around the state. Trees blown over, shingles taken away, creeks and rivers flooding. There were pictures and videos of tornadoes, which held Steve’s attention, their dark forms twisting through the hail and rain.   
“We could play a board game,” Zeph suggested.  
“Let me guess,” Elle said, tying her hair back into a braid. “Risk?”  
“Give yourself a prize,” Zeph responded, opening a closet in the hallway and extracting the game. Steve read the slogan. Risk: The Game of World Domination. This would be right up Loki’s alley.   
They gathered around the dining room table. Outside was almost dark as night, and it was only four in the afternoon. Loki joined them and snagged the green set of pieces before Zeph even started explaining the rules. Steve took the blue ones, Alan the red, and Zeph chose black. Cole came in at the last minute and decided to be yellow. Eleanore declined to play, instead helping June de-bone the chicken and putting some risen bread dough in a white square machine that whirred on the counter top.   
Steve and Loki got the rules of the game quickly, and they started placing pieces. Loki took Europe and Asia, and Steve took over North and Central America, developing strongholds everywhere someone could invade from. Zeph concentrated his pieces in South America, and Alan got Australia and New Zealand. Cole took over Africa.  
Zeph started off aggressively attacking Loki’s hold on North Africa, which wasn’t heavily fortified. He got it, and placed a few troops there. Everyone else used their turns to strengthen their holdings, and Steve started planning for a hostile takeover from Alaska to Kamchatka. Loki was his biggest opponent, and unlike chess, Steve had experience with this type of ‘warfare’. The map and gameplay reminded Steve of the War, when he’d helped plan the Commandos’ next moves and delivered intel on newly discovered Hydra bases. Still, he was sure Loki had had formal lessons of battle tactics and strategy, and the guy was a genius in his own right. It would be a long game.  
“So what kind of progress did you make today?” Cole asked.  
“We got the north and east sides of the back pasture done. Probably could have gotten the whole thing if the storm hadn’t come up,” Alan said. “We brought both trucks in, but we left the trailer out there.”  
“That’s good,” Cole said. “I’m attacking Brazil.”  
It went on like that. Steve lost his attack on Kamchatka, and Loki destroyed Alan and took over Australia. Alan had to leave the game, but he just went and talked to his mom and cousin in the kitchen. He really loved Eleanore, Steve could tell, but he also liked to say things just to make her or other people angry. He was an instigator, like Dougan had been. Mostly harmless, but offensive in the right situations. Still, Steve was willing to bet that if someone else called Eleanore weak or insulted her, they’d be fighting Alan first.  
Steve took over Iceland once he’d withdrawn from Kamchatka, and Cole started an offensive from North Africa to Western Europe and won. Loki used his extra troops to take Egypt and East Africa in a surprise move that made the older farmer groan. Zeph also took North Africa from his dad, and then he and Loki demolished Cole’s defenses together. While they were focused on that, Steve hemmed in his continent with troops and set himself up to take Great Britain and Scandinavia, which he did. From there, it was a quick sweep of Europe, but he hit a wall when it came to Asia. The joke was not lost on him, but Loki didn’t understand it until Alan explained from the kitchen. Zeph started invading from Venezuela, but he only whittled Steve’s Central American forces down, and they were replaced faster than he could take them out. Sparing troops there, though, weakened his European defenses, and Loki assailed relentlessly from Afghanistan and Ural. Charlie attacked Steve’s sock-clad toes under the table, which distracted him badly. He jokingly accused Loki of controlling the cat, and the dark-haired man rolled his eyes.   
“Supper,” June called. It smelled wonderful, especially the fresh bread.   
The storm was still raging outside, but no tornado warnings had been issued for their county yet. Risk was moved to the middle of the table, and everyone gathered around and watched the new damage reports and the reporters whose job it was to stand in the hail and rain and yell into a microphone. If it was later in the season, Cole said, the hail would have devastated the crops. As it was, there wasn’t much to flatten, and the ground was warm enough from the past weeks of thaw to keep the vast majority of the little plants alive. June mourned her flowers, which were pretty much buried under melting ice. The hail had let up some, only pea-sized pellets falling from the sky for the present. The thunder and lightning grew closer and more distant in waves, and Steve could see more severe patches of weather moving on the radar.   
The warmly lit room seemed isolated from the violence outside. June and Cole sat beside each other on the bench, and Eleanore sat to her aunt’s right. Steve was next to her at the end of the table, and Loki was on his right with the twins rounding out the seating arrangement and asking question after question about other planets and being magical and what all he could do. Loki was patient with them, although he answered some things with sarcasm and evasions, as usual. He’d talk freely about his magic and any planets other than Asgard, but when it came to his home realm he clammed up and artfully changed the subject. Steve figured he probably missed being there, even if he wouldn’t admit it. That, or there were enough bad memories connected to the place that Loki avoided them at all costs. Both were entirely possible.  
Still, it was interesting to hear about the other realms. The whole family quieted down to listen to the demigod speak. Steve liked the sound of Alfheim with its open magic users and magical technology. Loki talked about their forest cities and the way they used energy to live in harmony with the land. Muspelheim, on the other hand, was a harsh place full of volcanoes and fire-based beings that would burn you as soon as you ticked them off. Almost no one went there if they could help it. Vanaheim was a lot like Earth, but its culture was focused on education over combat. They learned a form of self-defense fighting that sounded like martial arts, involving hand-to-hand moves that used the opponents’ strength and mass against them. Loki had studied there for a while after he was done learning intensively about magic.   
Nidavellir was the realm of dwarves, and it was barren and uninhabitable aboveground during the day because of its close proximity to its sun. At night, though, visitors could enjoy the clear sky and interesting constellations. Underground were vast cavernous cities and mines for precious metal, which was what most of the planet was made of. The dwarves traded inventions (Loki called them ‘workings’) made of ingenious metal and magic combinations for food from other realms because all they could grow was fungi, most of them poisonous. That realm was also the first place a person could look to for assassination serums. Similarly, Niflheim was barren and dark, and home to creatures that lived that way. Legend said it was where the dishonorable dead were sent for eternal torment, but Loki discarded that as a myth. Hel was completely uninhabited, with no atmosphere and a pure red wasteland. It was also listed as a resting place for really bad people, and a half-dead, half-alive woman was said to appear to anyone who stayed there over-long. Again, Loki debunked the myth, chalking it up to insanity and oxygen deprivation.   
“Wasn’t there one more?” Zeph asked when Loki seemed like he was done. “Didn’t you say there were nine?”  
“Yes,” Loki conceded, clearly forcing nonchalance. “Jotunheim. Home of Frost Giants and not much else. It is comparable to your colder regions here, always covered in snow and ice.” Steve knew why he didn’t want to talk about this one: Loki hated the Frost Giants and he’d tried to destroy them.   
“Alan, help me clean up so they can get back to the game,” Elle said brightly. She stole Steve’s plate and bowl and took Loki’s when he handed them over. Alan took the rest, and they worked together to clear the dishes out of the kitchen and put the leftovers away.  
“Brownies?” Alan suggested, and they messed up the kitchen again as Steve gradually hammered his way into South America, keeping an eye out as Loki set up more troops as defenses. Halfway through taking Argentina, Steve realized Loki was playing him and Zeph against each other, and he’d take whoever won out and control the world.   
“Truce?” Steve said, withdrawing.   
“An alliance?” Zeph asked. “I was wondering when you’d figure out his plan.”  
After that, Loki was kept busy as Zeph attacked from Africa and Steve from Europe. It took a couple hours and tons of planning and re-planning, but they eventually backed Loki into Australia. Unfortunately, the demigod seemed to have accounted for that, unleashing hell in the form of hundreds of troops he’d stationed there. Steve and Zeph’s troops had been stretched thin, but Loki took the bottom half of Asia first and then Africa, then South America, apparently exacting revenge for the team-up. Then it was just him and Steve, and they were about evenly matched.   
“If you want, you could sign a treaty and divide the world between you,” Elle said, munching on a cream cheese brownie and observing the stalemate.  
“I will take Asia and Africa and Australia,” Loki said. “You may have Europe and the Americas.”  
“That’s fine,” Steve grinned. He’d been getting bored with the game once it turned into a battle-based no-win situation. “If you declare a democracy for your countries.”  
“They may elect me as ruler for life,” Loki smirked. “I will be a philanthropic tyrant. And upon your untimely end, I will take your countries into my fold.”  
Zeph and Eleanore and Alan were all laughing at the exchange. Elle set a couple brownies in front of Steve and Loki. “Commemorate with a peaceful feast. No poisoning.”  
The treats were really good. Steve and Loki picked up their pieces from the board and put them back in the little plastic boxes before folding the board and turning their attention back to the television. The county was still under a tornado watch, and it looked like they might actually get hit with one, as the curved tail end of the storm was set to pass over them. The wind and rain were picking up again, and the night was lit only by lightning with increasing frequency. Steve kept doing double-takes when he looked at Loki because he didn’t recognize him with the new haircut.  
The family gathered in the living room around the larger TV over the fireplace. Zeph picked up Steve’s shield and Alan test-punched it, bruising his knuckles. Elle refused to heal that injury because he’d just do it again. The lights kept flickering as the wind picked up, but they didn’t go out. A tornado was reported in the county to the north, moving southeast, but June and Cole made no move toward the basement. Pictures of cars with busted windows, ice stacked inches deep, and flooded streets played across the screen in between live reports.  
“We could camp in the living room like when we were kids,” Alan suggested as the hour approached ten.   
“Once the end of the storm passes, you guys can go to bed,” June replied. “I don’t think we’ll get hit with anything. Just another fifteen minutes or so and we’ll be in the clear.”  
That turned out to be true. The lightning and thunder subsided gradually, and left only light rain in its wake. The radar showed that the scattered showers would be gone by morning.   
“I believe I had had my share of excitement,” Loki said, rising from his seat near the picture window. “May you all have peaceful evenings.”  
“Goodnight,” June waved to him as he ascended the stairs. “Boys, you too. Elle, I won’t boss you around, but you’ve been getting up early.”  
“Yeah,” Elle got up and pulled the twins with her. “Night.”  
Steve was left with June and Cole, who still watched the reports on the television. Steve wasn’t too tired yet, but he couldn’t tell whether they wanted him to leave them alone or not. He settled for ‘or not’ as Cole headed off to bed, too, complaining about a nap the storm had interrupted.   
“Supper was great,” Steve told June.  
She smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m thinking lasagna for tomorrow night. It’s Elle’s favorite.”  
“I haven’t tried it,” Steve frowned. “She made me some, though, for a… freezer meal.”  
“Yeah, it freezes well,” June nodded. “And we can have leftovers from tonight for lunch, if you guys take a break and come back in.”  
“We might,” Steve sighed, remembering the near-fight from that afternoon. “Alan likes to argue with Elle.”  
“Oh yeah he does,” June laughed. “It doesn’t help that they’re polar opposites. Somehow, though, they’re still really close.”  
“They got over it quickly today,” Steve granted.   
“Sorry if they stressed you out,” June apologized. “We’re a loud family.”  
“It wasn’t bad,” Steve smiled. “I’ve seen a lot worse.”  
June was quiet for a second, looking out the window at the dark rain. “Loki really does protect you, doesn’t he?”  
“Yeah,” Steve answered simply, wondering where she was going with this.   
“Lydia told me about him… all of it,” June continued. “I didn’t know what Elle had gotten herself into. But I see it now. You’re all helping each other.”  
“I don’t know how much help I am,” Steve shrugged. It made sense for Elle’s family to be concerned, but she handled herself (and everyone else) pretty well. “Loki’s actually a good teammate, though. You don’t have to worry too much about him.”  
“Well,” June said, standing with a sigh. “I’ll hit the hay. Thanks for all your work today. Feel free to watch whatever you want, just turn off the TV when you go to bed.”  
“Yes ma’am,” Steve said, accepting the remote. He flipped through the guide, landing on an old movie he recognized: Stagecoach featuring a young John Wayne. It was more than a little unfair to Native Americans, with Apaches as the main, undeveloped antagonists, but Steve had seen it before and he liked the familiar black and white imagery. He caught the tail end of the movie, when the Plummers and Ringo were having a shootout. The gunshots sounded nothing like real life, and they didn’t bring back any bad memories for him.   
When that was over, it was almost midnight. Steve headed upstairs and quietly showered in the hall bathroom. He was pleasantly worn out from the exercise of the day. He wondered if Loki would race him again tomorrow, and whether they could get most of the next pasture done as well.   
When he got back to his room, his laptop was sitting on his bed with a note on top of it. “Check your email. ~Elle” Steve did as the scrawled writing commanded, and found one from her with links to different videos for guided meditation and websites about the topic. Yep, she handled everyone really well, even if they didn’t notice it right away. Steve turned his computer’s volume to mute and checked through the videos, choosing one on mindfulness to try the next morning. After that, he sat on his bed and checked his phone.  
A text from Hill told him that the terrorist’s name was Serkan Tiryaki, and he was set to meet with an unknown person in two days. They’d traced him back to his hotel room and had planted a tracker in his suitcases, but so far nothing had moved. They suspected he was going to sell some of the biological weapons and get back in the international terrorist game. SHIELD was going to hold back until they’d pinpointed his buyer.  
That sounded risky, but it wasn’t Steve’s operation to run. He texted an all-clear and rolled into bed with a sigh. Another fairly good day, even if they did almost get struck by lightning. June had apparently warmed up to Loki, also good, and the boys were comfortable around them. Steve made a mental note to show them how to use his shield the next day, since they hadn’t gotten the chance that evening.   
The rain had stopped, and the chickens were clucking again as he finally drifted off to sleep.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I always love hearing your thoughts! Comment below!


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